


toute la lumière reflétée par des éclats de verre

by LtTanyaBoone



Category: Pan Am, X Company
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-28 20:15:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13911369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LtTanyaBoone/pseuds/LtTanyaBoone
Summary: "She was here, before. Years ago, with René. Back then, there had been two children. A baby boy, barely six months old. And a little girl of five years. The children of friends, of members of the Resistance. Of fellow Jews."Basically a "What If" piece, because I love Aurora so much, and find Colette's past a fascinating thing to explore.





	toute la lumière reflétée par des éclats de verre

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warnings for mentions of WWII and the Holocaust  
> I'm not Jewish, all my information pertaining to Jewish faith and customs comes from jewfaq.org

The picture is a tattered mess. Aurora clutches it close and takes a shaky breath before she looks up. Takes in the girl sitting at the table, staring at the wood with an almost empty expression. It makes her heart constrict and she has to force herself to keep breathing at the sight. She looks almost tiny. She shouldn’t be this small, Aurora doesn’t think.

“Her name is Colette,” the nun informs her. “Colette Valois, from Chambord. We’ve had to change her birthday, as well.”

It’s a small detail, but Aurora closes her eyes at the words, a silent curse catching on her lips.

She was here, before. Years ago, with René. Back then, there had been two children. A baby boy, barely six months old. And a little girl of five years. The children of friends, of members of the Resistance. Of fellow Jews.

The baby’s name had been Martin. As far as Aurora knows, the nuns left it at that, only changed his last name. With the baby’s sister, they had to be more thorough. A child named Nava HaLevi wouldn’t have escaped the Nazis, not even sheltered away in an orphanage run by Jesuit nuns.

There are so many children here, now. Even back when they brought the HaLevi’s here, there had been others, some of them children of Jews, as well. Aurora wonders how many of the ones still here have Jewish ancestry. How many of them will never be picked up, their parents and other family members killed by the Nazis. So many deaths, so many people wiped off the face of the Earth, victims of genocide.

She gives a slight shake of her head and clears her throat.

“Thank you,” she mutters and gives the woman a curt nod before she starts to approach the girl.

The brunette child looks up at the sound of Aurora’s footsteps. Her brows twitch, there is a faint spark of recognition in her eyes that quickly gives way to confusion.

“Bonjour,” Aurora greets her and pulls out a chair to sit down opposite the girl. Places the picture down face-first, so the girl, so Colette won’t be able to look at it. She hasn’t decided how she’s going to go about this, yet. Figured that she’d see if the child remembers her, at all, and then go from there.

“Bonjour,” the girl replies, watching Aurora intently. Searches her face, her eyes darting from Aurora’s eyes to her lips, to her hair and back, before they find the silver necklace around her neck. Her face smoothes out and Aurora is grateful she tugged the pendant beneath her blouse, out of sight, when she sees the child reach up to touch her own necklace, a crucifix pendant dangling from it. It makes Aurora’s skin crawl and part of her itches to reach out and take it off her, but she forces herself to keep her hands still. There is plenty of time for this, later.

“My name, is Aurora,” she begins. Sees the confusion on the girl’s face, faint memories whispering that that’s wrong. “You and I, we knew each other, some years ago. I was a friend, of your parents’.”

The sudden surprise on the girl’s face makes her cringe inwardly. A desperate expression crosses her eyes as she leans forward, greedy for anything Aurora may offer. The wariness that came from her feeling like Aurora isn’t her real name is gone in an instant.

“Were you...” she starts and cuts herself off, her eyes darting to the door, the nun that is standing there, keeping a watchful eye on them. Aurora swallows and gives a slow nod.

“I was in the Resistance, with them,” she tells the girl. It’s not a lie, not a real one. Oscar and Rachelle thought she was merely Resistance, like René. They had no idea that the two of them were foreign spies, and neither Aurora nor René ever figured to enlighten them.

“Oh,” the child breathes, her mouth making a perfect O-shape. She fidgets, looks at her hands, her eyes darting to the photograph Aurora put down on the table. “What were they like?”

A thousand different things spring to mind. Aurora finds herself being assaulted by so many memories, all at once. Of conversations with Rachelle over coffee and biscuits. Of walking the streets, her arm linked with Oscar, laughing at one of his jokes. Of evenings spent pouring over flyers and posters with them. Of Oscar tossing his daughter into the air and the child squealing in joy.

“Brave,” she whispers. “They were the bravest, and kindest, people that I ever met,” she tells her, stubbornly blinking at the tears in her eyes. She remembers Tom, too, and Harry. They were brave, too, and kind, and full of life. But it was a different sort of bravery, a different brand of courage. Oscar and Rachelle knew what would happen if they were found out. Yet they went into the Resistance. Not in spite of the risk, but because of it. Because they had a child and wanted to make sure that the world she grew into was one that would be worth living in.

The girl swallows and inclines her head, her hands pressed to the tabletop, fingers spread out.

“Colette,” Aurora begins again, and has to force herself to use that name. It feels wrong, on her tongue. Feels like betrayal. “I want to ask you something,” she tells her. The girl looks up at her, her brows twitching. Aurora searches her face, the resemblance to the girl’s mother burning an aching hole into her heart. “Do you want to come with me?”

“What?” she breathes, surprise written all over her features.

Aurora swallows and leans forward. Lifts her elbows onto the table and crosses her arms as she braces herself on them.

“It’s alright if you say no,” she tries to reassure the girl. “I know we do not know each other, but... I made a promise, to your parents. And I am sorry it has taken me so long to be able to really work on keeping it, but I would like to try.”

 

* * *

She’s very silent. Aurora catches herself forgetting that Colette is there. Since they left the orphanage, the girl has barely been speaking.

They have a small room in a Parisian hotel. It’s not much, and Aurora hates having to tell the girl that she doesn’t know how long they’ll have to stay here. She doesn’t seem to mind too badly, though then again, Aurora isn’t sure about anything the girl feels. She’s good, at hiding her emotions. If she were a spy, Aurora would be impressed. But she isn’t. She’s a little girl, and the carefully blank expressions make Aurora’s skin crawl the more she sees of them.

She takes her out to dinner every evening. Tries to figure out what sort of food Colette likes. The girl keeps fidgeting as she reads different menus. Keeps shifting uncomfortably. Aurora asked her before, what she’d like to order, but Colette had shrugged, keeping her choice a secret until the waiter arrives, and until after Aurora has ordered for herself.

At first, she ordered water with every meal. Now, she’s slowly branching out. Asks for cocoa and coffee, and a lemonade once. It made Aurora cringe when she’s asked her if she could have that, which immediately gave the girl the wrong impression. Yes, of course she can have a lemonade. Aurora’s reaction hadn’t been because of the drink, but because of how timid, how hopeful she’d sounded when Colette had asked her.

Once, Colette asks if she can have a sip of Aurora’s wine. The blonde hesitates, lowering the glass from her lips. It’s not a particularly good one. She’d ordered it because it’s Harry’s birthday and she felt like acknowledging it, at least in passing, even if it would be in her head. Then she figures that the girl is old enough to have a taste and holds out the glass for her to take. Colette perks up, a grin flickering over her face as she accept the glass and takes a sip, her cheeks flushing as she makes a face.

“It’s not very good,” Aurora tells her and takes her glass back before she sets it down on the table again. Colette has already reached for her own drink, some herbal tea, to wash down the taste with.

“It’s, different,” she allows, her brows furrowing slightly. It makes Aurora cock her head to the side slightly as she takes in the girl. Searches her face as she wonders how on earth she may have gotten her hands on wine in the past. She’s lived in an orphanage run by nuns, for crying out loud.

“Catholics,” Aurora breathes and closes her eyes at the realization. When she opens them again, she finds Colette watching her with furrowed brows, a questioning look on her young face. Aurora quickly shakes her head. “I was wondering where you may have had wine before,” she explains. “It was during Mass, wasn’t it?”

Colette gives a mute nod, running the fingernail of her thumb over the crease in the tablecloth.

“Did you like going to Church?” Aurora asks and crosses her arms as she leans forward to brace herself on the table. Braces herself, as well, for whatever answer she will receive. She hasn’t told her, yet. Hasn’t figured out a way to break it to Colette that her parents were Jewish, that she is considered Jewish, too. She hasn’t even told the girl that Aurora is Jewish, coming to think of it.

“We had to,” Colette shrugs in lieu of an actual answer. She shifts and watches her index finger run down the crease now. “I didn’t like having to go to confession,” she whispers, a soft shudder running through her.

Aurora perks up at that.

“Why not?” she inquires, reaching for the wine again. She’s always wondered about that particular requirement. It seems so odd to her, to have to go to someone else to confess her sins. Surely, if G-d is really watching them, He already knows all the horrible things she’s done. And He’d know whether or not she regrets her actions. No need to pull anyone else into this mess and burden them with her past actions, required or deserved as they may have been.

Colette shrugs as she furrows her brows.

“I didn’t like talking about what I’d done wrong,” she finally says. “But lying is a sin, too, and when I told them I didn’t have anything to confess, I just added to the list of things I should have confessed to...” she trails off, her frown deepening.

“That, makes my head hurt,” Aurora admits. Colette looks up at her in surprise, and the Quebecois woman wonders if right now might be the moment to at least let her in a little, on the things Aurora still has to explain.

“Why?” Colette asks and Aurora gathers her courage.

“I’m not Catholic,” she tells her. “This religion, its rules, they, confuse me,” she admits, searching Colette’s face. “I’m Jewish,” she adds, watching the girl intently.

Colette straightens in her chair, her eyes widening as her jaw drops before she can catch herself. She quickly closes her mouth, a blush coloring her cheeks.

“It’s okay,” Aurora hastens to reassure her. “I don’t exactly go about advertising it,” she shrugs. Colette hesitates, fingers digging into the napkin on the table.

“Is it true?” she whispers and Aurora furrows her brows in confusion.

“Is what true?” she asks and the girl looks around carefully, to make sure no one is listening.

“Some of the nuns, they said it was just lies, made up stuff to make the Germans look bad. Pr-, po... Progander?”

“Propaganda,” Aurora helps her out. Colette gives a quick nod.

“Yes, propaganda. They told us to never speak of it, never mention it. But Soeur Marie, she seemed... horrified, once, when we got a little boy who said his family was put on a train East, and it made me wonder... The camps. Were they real?”

It feels like someone has punched her in the gut. The wind is knocked out of her and Aurora has to lean back to rest against the chair, or she might collapse. She feels weak and dizzy. It’s a blow she hadn’t expected, at all.

“I’m sorry,” Colette is already apologizing. Aurora shakes her head slowly and licks her lips. Takes the girl’s glass of water and downs it in an effort to clear her head and make herself stay upright.

She doesn’t forget. Ever since she first learned about the concentration camps, she’s never been able to forget about their existence, and the very real threat they posed to her. Sometimes, she manages to push the knowledge aside. Manages to wrestle it into a drawer in her mind and slam it shut and lock it before throwing away the key. But it’s never much use, the knowledge doesn’t stay in for more than a couple of hours. It’s always just a small reprieve, the denial she forces herself into.

“It’s alright,” she mutters and clears her throat. Meets Colette’s dark eyes, so much like her mother’s. “It’s true,” she tells her. “The camps existed. They are real.”

Colette seems to sag. Seems to lose some of her own strength at the knowledge. Her shoulders slump and she leans against the table, not meeting Aurora’s eyes any more. She blinks, and Aurora realizes with a start that the girl is fighting back tears.

“Hey," she murmurs and reaches out to touch her hand. “I’m not mad at you,” she tells her. “I know it’s a horrible thing. A lot of people don’t want to believe that it’s true. There’s no shame in not being sure and trusting the adults around you-”

“Why did they lie?” Colette asks. She looks up again, anger burning in her eyes. Aurora swallows and forces herself to give a shrug.

“Maybe they thought they were telling the truth,” she offers. “A lot of people didn’t believe the rumors, about the camps, before we had pictures of them and locations on maps. Before the Allied Forces liberated some of the camps and survivors came forward with their stories,” she explains. “What happened in those, places, was... terrible isn’t an adequate enough word. We can talk more about this, once you’re a little older. But I think a lot of people refuse to believe that there are people out there who are capable of such monstrous acts.”

“Is it true they killed the children, as well?” Colette pushes and Aurora finds her throat constricting. She wonders if she should lie to her. Should tell her that no, the Nazis were not that horrid, they left the children alone. Only hurt the adults. But it would be a lie, and if anything, Colette deserves to know the truth. And this, this is part of it.

“Yes,” Aurora confirms. Takes her purse and counts out bills before placing them on the table. She gets up and takes Colette’s hand, gently pulling the girl with her.

“But, the food,” she mutters in weak protest. Aurora merely shakes her head no and takes Colette outside. Out of the restaurant, into the chilly night air. She inhales greedily before taking another breath and then crouching down to the girl’s level.

“It’s okay,” she tells her and watches as Colette wrestles with her emotions. She’s such a gentle child, so filled with love and compassion. Aurora hadn’t noticed the extent of it before, but she berates herself for her oversight. Straightens and pulls the girl into a tight embrace, Colette hiding her face in her dress.

“It’s alright,” she murmurs and runs a hand through her dark hair. She reminds her of Annie, then. Small, and fragile against her, baffled by the cruelty of this world they are living in.

* * *

She contemplates simply getting a forged passport for Colette. It seems like that would be a lot quicker than waiting around for an original.

And really, how legitimate would a passport be, with the girl’s fake name and date of birth? Sure, Aurora has forged paperwork that says Colette answers to that name, that lists her date of birth as such. But she knows the truth. She knows that she was born in late November, not early January. She knows that Colette’s actual name is Nava.

By the time they do receive the necessary papers for Aurora to take the girl out of the country, she’s going stirr crazy in that little hotel room. She would have taken her to a safe house, but they are slowly being shut down, and Aurora wouldn’t have known how to explain to the child why she has an apartment in Paris when she doesn’t live here.

Alfred comes by, two days before their flight to Canada. Aurora isn’t sure about letting him into the room. She doesn’t know how Colette is going to react, to a man. But it turns out that it’s not something she has to worry about. Colette likes Alfred, it seems. She watches him, dark eyes intent and taking in every detail. Alfred talks and Colette listens, her head cocked slightly to the side. Sometimes, Aurora thinks she even catches the hint of a smile on the girl’s face.

Alfred mostly speaks French around Colette, though the two of them converse in English. Aurora isn’t entirely certain how much of it Colette speaks, so talking about their jobs is off-limits. She gives him a letter, instead of telling Alfred how she knows Colette. She’s too worried about the girl actually understanding more English than she lets on, and accidentally revealing her parentage to her by talking to Alfred about it. She begs him to not let it change how he interacts with Colette. The girl is so attentive, she would instantly notice that something is different, and to Alfred’s credit, he tries his best. Still, Aurora sees him watch her, sometimes, when Colette is busy reading and not paying attention, and there’s a pained expression in his eyes.

“Why aren’t you married?”

Aurora nearly spits out her coffee at the question. Colette gives her a look of fake innocence and the blonde woman scowls at the child for a moment. A quick check reveals that Alfred is sleeping soundly in his seat across the aisle. As should Colette be. It is, after all, closing in on midnight in France. At least that’s what her watch says. Aurora isn’t proud to admit that she’s lost track of time. They’ve been flying for almost twenty-four hours, she is dead tired, but refuses to sleep, in case there is an emergency. The plane will have to land soon, to re-fuel.

“Pardon?” she mutters and ducks her head as she takes another sip of her drink. Colette purses her lips and looks at Alfred’s sleeping form.

“He doesn’t wear a ring. Neither do you. But you’re in love, aren’t you?”

“It’s not as easy as that,” Aurora shakes her head with a sigh. Looks over to watch Alfred sleep for a moment, remembering a time when she did the same thing, in a safehouse in France, on a plane over the Atlantic, in a car heading for the border.

“We, met, during the war. I couldn’t just get married then," she shrugs. It may be the only time since she’s told Colette about her being Jewish that the girl’s knowledge of the fact makes things a little easier.

“Does he know?” Colette whispers conspiratorially, and Aurora almost laughs out loud at her expression.

“Yes,” she confirms, before doubt creeps in. “I think he forgets sometimes, though,” she adds, uncertain of where that honesty is coming from. Technically, everyone on the team knew she’s Jewish. They had to know and Aurora had been glad, in a way. The small tidbit had provided them with extra incentive to make sure the Nazis wouldn’t get her. Alive, that is. But then again, she has wondered if perhaps the others never truly understood what it meant, that she’s Jewish. What it meant to Aurora, being trapped in Nazi occupied territory, with the knowledge of what was happening to her people. Of what had most likely happened to her own family, her Oma and Opa and Lotte. It had seemed to her even that sometimes, the boys forgot. That it slipped their mind, who Aurora was. What her faith was, where she was from, who her people were. Until she mentioned it, or something else made them remember. The looks on their faces, after those moments, when they remembered, they’d always made her skin itch.

Colette nods, now, and sinks down in her seat. Rubs the back of her hand over her eye and stifles a yawn. Aurora reaches out and runs a hand through her hair before she can stop herself. Colette tenses and the blonde quickly withdraws. Colette doesn’t like things like this, and Aurora tends to avoid tender gestures because she hates making the girl uncomfortable. But she seems to young and innocent now, and so tired, and Aurora had thought-

“Why aren’t there any birds up here?” she asks, looking out the window. Aurora sighs and raises her own eyes.

“I think it’s the noise,” she offers, raising her own voice a little in order to be heard over the propellers of the plane. “It probably drives them off.”

Colette purses her lips and then leans back into her seat, turning onto her side so her back is to Aurora. She can still see the girl’s reflection in the window. Sees her struggle, briefly, to keep her eyes open, before she finally loses her battle against sleep and they close.

* * *

She didn’t fully explain to her parents what she was going to do, when she left again. The letters Aurora wrote them were few in number, finally wiring a telegram that she’d found Colette and that she would be returning to Canada with the girl.

She should have known her parents would do this. That, when given the date of Aurora’s return, they would come and try to see her. See their daughter again, after her having just upped and left after being back for mere days. See the child that she was bringing along, and try to make any sense of Aurora’s actions.

She should have told Colette. Explained to her, about her father. But Aurora has seen the way Colette reacts, to men who are the least bit intimidating. To people who dare to speak German. And part of her had tried to convince herself that it wouldn’t be a big deal. She would explain, once they were back in Canada, and it would be fine. Colette would learn to trust Aurora’s father, would have time to come to terms with the fact that her new guardian has German heritage, as well.

So what happens is that they somehow make it to her apartment, Aurora carrying a half-asleep Colette as she tries to stay awake long enough to get them through the door. And then she finds her parents on the other side and screams inside her head.

Colette wakes and instantly returns to her shy self. She almost hides behind Aurora’s skirt and if it weren’t so horrible, Aurora would laugh at the image.

Her mother bends down and talks to the girl, tries to coax her from Aurora’s side. Is semi-successful, even, which is impressive. And then Aurora’s father says something.

She feels Colette tense, the accent still coating her father’s French all too familiar to the girl. Aurora reaches down and touches Colette’s shoulder before she runs her hand down the girl’s back in a soothing caress. She’ll explain, in a moment, once she has gotten her parents out of her apartment. And Aurora’s father chooses that moment to use the German nickname he’s used all throughout her childhood for Aurora.

The time it takes for Aurora to blink is enough for Colette to bolt from the room. She lets out a soft curse and runs after the girl. Finds her in her bedroom, wedged between bed and cabinet, shaking, trembling with fear, her dark eyes wide and terrified. Aurora crouches down in front of her and slowly inches close, reaching for the girl.

“I am so, so sorry,” she whispers, fingers straining to touch the shaking frame of the girl hiding from the world. Aurora swallows and forces her tears down. "I should have told you..." she murmurs and trails off, watching Colette hug her knees close as the girl hides her face in her arms.

Aurora knows that her father is not a threat. He’s a kind and gentle and loving man who would rather cut of his own arm than lay a hand on anyone else. He’d refused to serve in the military, had refused the draft and cited religious reasons. And Aurora loves her father, loves him so much she cannot even begin to put it into words. Her mother called him ‘gentle giant’, even, and Aurora thinks there’s no more fitting description of him.

But she’d failed to look at him through the eyes of a stranger. Through the eyes of a traumatized little girl. Her 1,90m tall father with his full beard and head of dark hair, the 120kg of almost entirely muscle that he is, his gruff voice, and especially the language he speaks when caught off guard.

Colette sniffles and slowly raises her head again, a look of utter betrayal in her eyes. Aurora feels her heart break a little more at the sight.

“His name, is Tobias,” she tells her. “I promise you, he won’t hurt you. You’re save with him. I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you, and I know he wouldn’t ever dream to do that.”

“How could you?” the girl asks, her voice holding an angry edge. Aurora hesitates for a moment, before she lets out a breath.

"Because he is my father,” she tells her. Registers the look of shock on Colette’s face before she frowns and shakes her head.

“Liar,” she declares, suddenly sounding rather confident. Aurora almost laughs at her then, but she bites back the sound at the last moment.

“I am not,” she assures her. “My last name is Luft,” she tells Colette. She doesn’t think she’s ever told her before. And in post-occupation France, Aurora hadn’t dreamed of using the German pronunciation of her last name, saying it as ‘Loft’ instead, the way her father had insisted on her doing all those years ago.

“My father was born in Germany. His parents, my grandparents, my aunt and my cousin, they still lived there, when the Nazis took over,” she reveals to the child. “They’re all dead now.”

The girl stares at her and Aurora is barely able to hold her gaze. She gets that she is hurt, and confused. She should have told Colette, should have explained to her. But it’s not something that Aurora goes around advertising about herself. If people find out, well, that is one thing. But her heritage isn’t usually something Aurora feels like sharing with others, unless she is very serious about the sort of relationship she has with those people. Even amongst the team, Alfred may have been the only one who really knew everything about it.

“I won’t make you talk to him. And I am very, very sorry, for not telling you about this sooner,” Aurora apologizes to the girl. Colette shudders, leaning against the cabinet, further withdrawing from Aurora.

She didn’t invite her parents. The letters and the final telegram had been an attempt to settle her mother’s still fragile nerves. She hadn’t wanted Aurora to go back to France; after all, the war had only been over for a second it had seemed, surely going back would have been dangerous, and her mother had been so relieved to know that Aurora, for once, was safe in Canada for a change. But it had been something Aurora had known that she’d have to do, so she’d left, again, only leaving her parents a letter attempting to explain why she had to do this.

With a heavy heart, Aurora stands and slowly leaves her bedroom, to face her parents again. To try and explain to them why Colette reacted the way she did. She thinks her father already knows. Aurora tries to make him feel less miserable about it, but she is exhausted, and doesn’t really have it in her. Colette is a war orphan, she has seen things no child should ever be witness to. Aurora doesn’t blame her for her mistrust and her fear. She knows her father doesn’t, either. He’s just, sad. Not even disappointed that Colette doesn’t trust him, but crushed by the knowledge of what his countrymen have done to the child to make her fear him as well.

Aurora sends them both on their way. Even her mother, who has a thousand questions and seems so worried for her, but Aurora cannot stand having her around, at least not when she’s busy trying to come up with a way to get Colette out of her hiding spot. The blonde thinks it might be better for Colette if she only has Aurora around, for the time being. Until she’s had a chance to calm down and adjust a little to everything that is happening, all the major changes taking place.

* * *

There’s a hairbrush in Colette’s hand. She’s holding it carefully, staring down at the bristles. Aurora lifts the cup of coffee off the table and guides it to her mouth to take a sip as she watches the girl.

“Can you,” she starts, frowning at the brush before she breaks off. Aurora forces herself to slowly place the cup on the table again and keep silent. Leaves Colette to furrow her brows and scuff her feet before she thrusts out the brush in Aurora’s direction.

“I want pigtails,” she declares. The blonde raises an eyebrow silently and holds Colette’s defiant gaze before the girl looks away, flushing slightly.

“Alright,” she nods. Pushes back her chair from the table and accepts the two hairties Colette was holding onto as the girl drops them into her open palm. She motions for her to sit and Colette does, crossing her legs at her ankles. Aurora steps up behind her and starts to run the brush through her thick hair, careful not too pull on it too much.

Truth be told, she half expected Colette to go to school with her hair not done.

The girl simply hates asking Aurora for anything, and the blonde has given up volunteering to do things for her. It usually ends with Colette declining and giving Aurora a challenging look, anyway. A sort of dare, for the blonde to contradict her. For Aurora to be the adult and tell Colette how things are going to be done.

The truth is, Aurora can’t. She can’t do it. She’s tried, G-d knows she has, but it always comes out as a request, a suggestion, and then Colette feels like she can ignore her anyway, and they’re back at square one, right where they started.

It’s the first day of school for the girl in Canada, and Aurora wishes she knew how to be... well, if not a mother, then something like a well-meaning, knowledgable aunt at least. Wishes she knew what to say to calm Colette’s nerves, to reassure her. She speaks French, it’s a Quebecois school, she’ll be fine. One of the reasons Aurora chose that school, after all, is because they teach in French. She’s still not sure about the extent of Colette’s skills when it comes to English, but at least this way, she will be able to understand the teachers and be understood by them.

She did warn them, though. About where Colette is from, what she went through. Not all the details, of course not. Aurora is still a little fuzzy on those, herself. The girl’s file from the orphanage helped answer some questions, and Aurora has been talking to one of the nuns that took care of Colette on the phone as well. But Colette is still not very forthcoming about the details of the things she has seen, during the war. Aurora knows about searches, at the orphanage. Knows about a child who died, shortly after arriving there, having been hurt too badly in a bombing run on a village. Knows about a nun who hung herself, and her being found by the children. The nun Aurora had spoken to had strong suspicions that Colette had been amongst those that had first stumbled across the body, though the girl has never talked about it, neither to confirm, nor to deny any involvement. The episode makes Aurora think of what Colette told her about her feelings regarding confession. She wouldn’t have lied to the nuns by claiming she didn’t see the body, but she wouldn’t admit to being where she hadn’t been supposed to, either.

“I was thinking,” Aurora finds herself saying as she divides Colette’s shoulder-length dark hair into two equal parts. “I will pick you up at school at one p.m. We could go out for dinner, if you want to. Celebrate your first day,” she suggests. Colette remains quiet for a moment, before she merely shrugs her shoulders, and Aurora has to bite back a sigh. “Or we can come ho- here,” she quickly corrects herself, trying to avoid a tantrum like the one that happened when she’d referred to her apartment as ‘home’ before. “I can fix you lunch, and then we’ll go over your homework together.”

“What about Alfred?” Colette suddenly surprises her by asking. “Is he coming over?”

Aurora hesitates before she swallows and shakes her head no.

“No,” she answers. “He’s on a, trip. He won’t be back for a few days, I don’t think.”

At that, Colette twists and turns in the chair, so she can see Aurora’s face. Scrutinizes it, her lips drawn in a tight line.

“I’m sorry,” Aurora apologizes. “I didn’t think...” she catches herself. She hadn’t considered that Aurora was so attached to Alfred already that she’d rather spend her time with him than with Aurora. Then again, Alfred’s never lied to her. He’s perfect like that. He stops by, talks to her, jokes around and puts her to bed with a good night story, and that is all. He doesn’t have to make the tough choices, like what to tell Colette about her past, when to tell her about all the details that Aurora remembers, the ones she’s been guarding so carefully all those years.

“‘s alright,” Colette mutters before turning around again. Aurora swallows and reaches out again to run her fingers through the girl’s soft hair.

“If you want to, you can give him a call,” she offers, her heart breaking a little at the way Colette’s entire face lights up. “I have a number, we can try it, see if he answers tonight.”

The girl grins at her and nods before forcing herself to sit still so Aurora can put the hairties in.

“There you go, all done,” she declares after a moment and Colette hops of the chair to get her bag, leaving Aurora to close her eyes against the stubborn tears that are threatening to betray her.

* * *

Colette’s dark eyes are wide and terrified. Aurora lets out a soft curse and runs a hand through her hair, giving it a sharp tug in an attempt to clear the lingering cobwebs of her dream from her mind.

Not a dream. Not even a nightmare. A memory, a horrible, bloody recollection of their days in Europe, the days spent running from the Nazis and getting tangled more and more in a web of lies none of them could see the end of any more.

“I’m sorry,” the girl whimpers and Aurora clenches her eyes shut. Throws her blanket back and gets out of bed to kneel on the floor next to Colette.

“It’s okay,” she tells her, taking her little hands. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” she mutters and Colette lets out a soft sniffle, a tear rolling down her cheek. Aurora isn’t entirely sure, but she thinks it looks a little darker than the other. She thinks she may have struck the girl, when she’d first touched her and her sleep-addled brain had confused it with the touch of a German soldier.

“You were yelling-” Colette mutters and reaches up to wipe her nose on the sleeve of her nightgown. Aurora pulls a face, but forces herself to remain on the floor. She doesn’t think she should be standing, right now. The difference in their height might spook Colette. Might make her afraid of her. G-d, she did hit her, Aurora thinks, remembering the feeling of her hand connecting, that being what finally pulled her from her dream/nightmare/memory.

“I’m okay,” she tells Colette. Who gives her a look that in any adult, Aurora would have rolled her eyes at. It reminds her of Neil, the way he looked at her when she’d insisted she was fine during a mission, when they all knew she very well wasn’t. When she lied and said she could handle it, yet knew very well that she was slipping and that there would be no catching her if this continued on for much longer.

The girl shifts slightly and Aurora lets go of her hands. Reaches up to brush her hair behind her ear, shivering in the cold air of her bedroom.

“Why are you here?” she asks Colette. The girl opens her mouth, then closes it again, looking away. “Colette?”

“I, dream of them,” the child replies, her voice barely audible. “At least I think it’s them. I never see their faces,” she adds, her brows furrowing slightly.

“Your parents?” Aurora whispers. Colette closes her eyes. Clenches them shut as her small hands curl into tight fists. She gives a curt nod and Aurora slumps against her bed. “You had a, a bad dream, as well?”

The girl sniffles and then there are tears running down her cheeks and Aurora reaches out before she can stop herself. Pulls the child down and into her embrace as she shushes her, whispering nonsense to her in an attempt to calm her down again. Tells Colette that it is okay, she’s alright, she’s save, no one is going to hurt her. Repeats it over and over again, along with the reminder that it was just a dream, only a dream, that she’s had.

When Colette has calmed down somewhat, Aurora gently extracts herself from the embrace. Stands, grimacing as her legs scream out in protest. She’s spent too long on the cold hardwood floor with Colette and lost the feeling in her legs. Now the blood is rushing back into them, making Aurora bite back a whimper of pain.

She gets back into her bed and lifts the blanket wordlessly for Colette. She half expects the girl to turn around and bolt from the room. But Colette doesn’t. Instead, she climbs into the bed and cuddles close. Snuggles up to Aurora and the blonde woman wraps her arms around the child in a soft embrace. Kisses her hair and smoothes it back from Colette’s forehead. She remembers a melody her mother used to hum, when she was a child. Is pretty sure that it’s a lullaby, one that has actual words for it. But Aurora can’t remember those. She does remember the melody, though, so she begins to hum it under her breath. Feels Colette stiffen in her arms for a moment, before she relaxes again. Turns her face into Aurora’s neck, her small hands clutching at her slip as she draws shuddering breaths in Aurora’s embrace.

By the time Colette finally manages to fall back asleep, Aurora thinks she may not have a voice left in the morning.

* * *

As it becomes apparent that Colette will be fine at school, Aurora starts looking for work. She has a degree in journalism, she’s written for a handful of papers since earning it as well.

It’s a long way, from being a spy, to basically degrading herself by more or less begging to write for a local paper. The editor-in-chief purses his lips at her resumée, his eyes scanning the neatly typed lines over and over again, as if they will suddenly transform into hidden messages.

Aurora sits and bites her tongue, anger coiling in her stomach. Years of working with the Resistance, spent producing some of her best work. Calls to arms, secret messages, articles detailing the atrocities the Germans were capable of, all of it, and no one will ever know it was her who wrote those pieces.

In the Resitancé, people could tell her pieces from René’s easily. By the words they chose, by the burning passion beneath them. By the thirst for revenge that filled them later. She did proof-reading for him a handful of times, back when they didn’t know who the other was. His handling of words had impressed her, but she’d thought he lacked a certain bravery at wielding them. She hadn’t been surprised at all, upon finding that he was the sergeant of their cell. He’d told her that her sort of blind bravery was something to admire, something he was trying to get better at, and she’d tried to emulate his way of calculating a risk without letting her emotions get the better of her. In the end, she hadn’t been all that successful, but that had been alright. He’d managed to temper some of the storm in her, and Aurora thinks that, for the short amount of time they really had with each other, they made each other all the better for it.

They offer her a weekly sort of column, and she wants to laugh and tell them no and leave the offices without looking back. But she can’t do that. The military has kicked her out, and she has Colette to think of, now. These people, these ‘journalists’, they have no idea what she did, during the war. All that the military will ever admit to is that she worked as a desk clerk. As if she sat, for years, filed papers and bade her time in a warm, well-lit office, instead of running through the battlefields of Europe with her heart in her throat and no idea if she was going to be alive the next day.

So she takes it, and hates herself a little more for having to do it.

* * *

Alfred comes around a lot, whenever he can, actually.

Aurora thought of breaking up, with him. It’s not that she doesn’t love him, she does, so much it pains her sometimes, when he is not there. But all of this is such a mess, and her relationship with Alfred is just adding to it.

She never would have thought that it might be so difficult, to attempt to piece herself back together, after the war. Truth be told, she’d thought she wouldn’t have to. That she’d be dead, killed in some alley, strung up in some yard, neck snapped in an interrogation room. In her wildest dreams, Aurora hadn’t thought she would survive until Germany’s unconditional surrender.

But she has. She’s alive, her heart’s still beating, broken as it is. Her lungs still fill with air, even if she sometimes still feels like she is slowly suffocating.

And there is Colette. There’s this little girl, and Aurora catches herself looking at her, and seeing her own pain reflected back at her. Sees the cracks she tries to hide so badly show in almost everything Colette does. The way she holds herself, keeping so still people can easily forget she is there. How she barely speaks, never raising her voice unless she is alone with Aurora and the blonde had really pushed her. She’s even found some food, stashed away in a drawer, beneath the girl’s undergarments the other day.

It shocks her, when Colette tells her she wants to go to church.

Alfred is over that evening. She’s finally finished her first real piece for the paper, a boring comment on plans to re-plant a public garden. She wanted him to read it and tell her what he thought, afraid that her annoyance with the assignment showed through her writing. They’re on the couch, pouring over the paper, when Colette walks in, her hands clasped in front of her, and declares she wants to go to church.

Aurora tenses instantly, and she feels Alfred do the same next to her, before he relaxes. And then tells the girl that it’s called ‘Temple’. Aurora blinks and looks at him then, her mouth opening. Almost asks him if he really is that stupid. She barely catches herself, and closes her mouth again, as well as her eyes. Takes a slow breath before looking at Colette. Looks at the girl, and the golden necklace that is still fastened around her neck.

She’s told her. A few days ago, when she’d finally managed to gather the courage and sit down, and actually explain to Colette why she’d been friends with her parents. It hadn’t merely been that they’d worked alongside each other in the Resistance. It had been their shared faith that had pushed them towards each other. She’d told Colette about spending Shabbat with her and her parents, once, after having been invited by Rachelle. While recounting the story, she’d realized that Rachelle must’ve been pregnant, then, though she probably hadn’t known it yet.

She’s tried so hard to relay all the memories she has, of Colette’s parents. Of the people they were. Of the kind of parents they were, how they doted on their daughter, how much they loved the baby they’d have later on. And Colette hadn’t understood, how people who would have done everything to keep their child save would risk it all by joining the Resistance, instead of playing it safe. After all, they hadn’t had anything to fear from the Nazis. Had wanted to know what might have compelled them to make such a reckless decision. And Aurora had finally managed to grab hold of her courage and tell Colette, about her parents being Jewish. About her being considered Jewish, as well.

Colette had run from the room, then. Slammed the door to Aurora’s bedroom closed and locked herself in for the entire night. And the blonde woman had sat in front of that door and tried to talk to the little girl, had tried to console her through the wood as she heard her cry. She still wishes that there’d been a better way, a gentler way, but there probably hadn’t been. There is no gentleness in turning someone’s world upside down so completely, no way of softening the blow of everything you thought you knew to be true about yourself turning out to have been a lie, a fabricated web of lies and half-truths, created in an attempt to protect you.

She’d hoped that it would be easier. That Colette would embrace her heritage, would ask all the question that Aurora had been brimming with, when she’d been only slightly older than the French girl. She would have gladly answered them, all of them, and then some. She’d have taken her to Temple, and found a Rabbi to answer the questions Aurora wouldn’t have had an answer for. She’d gladly have helped the girl on her way to her faith, helped her to reconnect with her past that had been hidden from her.

But it seems like Colette has little interest in exploring her heritage. In finding out who she is, what her parents believed in. She hasn’t even taken off the crucifix necklace she’s wearing, for crying out loud. Aurora finds her fingers itching, straining to take it off the girl’s neck whenever she catches glimpse of it. She won’t, though. She knows what things like this can mean, to someone who’s being thrown into the deep end a lifeline like this must seem incredibly important. And Aurora wants to do this right. She wants Colette to learn who she was supposed to be, not drive her away forever. Which would be all that taking her necklace away would accomplish, Aurora is certain of that much.

* * *

It surprises her.

She hadn’t meant to snoop, or deliberately gone to look through Colette’s belongings. She’s just missing one of her hairclips, and the last time she remembers wearing it had been when she’d been making Colette’s bed, so that is where Aurora looks. And finds, beneath the girl’s pillow, not her hairclip, but a little book.

_Jewish customs and traditions_

She knows about the library trip Alfred and Colette made. But she would have thought that Alfred would have told her, about getting such a book for the girl.

She swallows thickly before putting it back where she found it. Places it back on the mattress and then tosses the pillow onto it again, in the hope that it looks undisturbed enough for Colette to believe Aurora has no idea what she is reading.

She’s tried to talk to the girl. But Colette hadn’t seemed interested. Once, she’d even shouted at Aurora to shut up and placed her hands over her ears to drown out her voice. She’d given up, after that episode. Colette doesn’t want to learn where she’s from, who she is.

At least that’s what Aurora thought. Maybe she just needed more time. Or perhaps she needs to do this at her own pace, instead of having someone tell her about random things that make no sense to her.

Aurora reaches up and pinches the bridge of her nose as she draws a deep breath.

There has to be a way to do this. It’s ridiculous, the way they keep tip-toeing around one another when it comes to this topic.

With a shake of her head, Aurora leaves the room and makes for the kitchen. Grabs the notepad she keeps for grocery lists and starts making a new one.

She barely makes it home in time to get changed before she has to pick Colette up from school again. Quickly puts away the groceries and then leaves her apartment again in a hurry. She can already see some of the children leaving the school yard when she turns the corner of the street the school is on, and Aurora quickens her pace a little.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes to Colette when she finds the girl sitting on a bench, her nose in a book. “I was running some errands,” she trails off and holds out her hand for Colette to take. The girl looks up then. Scoffs, briefly, as she looks at Aurora’s outstretched hand, before she lifts her dark eyes to her face.

“Mademoiselle Renard wants to speak to you,” she tells her. Despite herself, Aurora feels her heart drop. She stares at Colette, takes in her appearance. Her clothes seem to be intact, there are no scratches or bruises on her skin.

“Something I should know?” she asks the girl. Who meets Aurora’s eyes before giving a non-committal shrug. Aurora barely manages to bite back a sigh. “Wait here,” she instructs the child before leaving her in search of Colette’s teacher.

Ten minutes later, she leaves the classroom, fuming. Rounds the corner and makes her way down the steps, her blood pounding in her ears.

“We’re leaving,” she tells Colette and takes the child’s arm, pulling her up from the bench. Colette stumbles as she tries to keep up with Aurora’s hurried pace.

“What happened?” she asks, looking up at Aurora with an expression that is almost fearful. The blonde woman merely shakes her head, too agitated to talk in that moment. She only slows her pace two streets over, and finally lets go of Colette.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes as she pauses, taking in Colette’s slightly dishevelled look. “I didn’t mean...” Aurora trails off, touching a hand to Colette’s back. The girl doesn’t pull away, for a change, but searches Aurora’s face.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asks, and it’s only then that Aurora thinks Colette has no idea why her teacher wanted to speak to her.

“No,” she tells her. “I don’t care what that... woman, what she says. You’re not doing anything wrong,” she says and takes Colette’s shoulders briefly, to give them a reassuring squeeze.

Her conviction holds out until the evening. Then, Aurora calls Alfred, and asks if he thinks that there may be something wrong, with Colette. Her teacher is worried, because she barely speaks at school. She’s not making friends, always has her nose in a book and seems to actually avoid having to talk to or play with the other children.

Alfred tells her that he may not be the best judge for that, since he barely managed to survive school. Too many people, too much noise, it had all been torture for him back then. He does think that what Aurora describes isn’t necessarily normal, for a child Colette’s age. But then again, she’s a war orphan. She’s seen things no adult should ever witness. Normal isn’t a term that applies in this case, Alfred doesn’t think. And Aurora tends to agree.

* * *

She takes Colette to meet her parents, to actually meet them. Not the botched up introduction they managed when Colette and her first arrived, before the girl had a panic attack at the realization of what language Aurora’s father was speaking. Her mother has been pestering her, pushing her, finally pleading with her, and Aurora can only tell her no so many times.

She knows that she doesn’t understand. Her mother never made a promise to someone that died, never mind a promise as big as taking care of their children. Aurora swore, on her life, that she’d do everything she could to protect Rachelle and Oscar’s children. She hopes that the baby, the little boy that he is now, is well taken care of.

Colette reverts back into her mute state the entire afternoon that they are at the house. Doesn’t speak one word, even if she is spoken to. If it were just her, Aurora would think that the girl is deliberately being difficult. But she doesn’t miss the way the child casts suspicious glances at her father. Doesn’t miss how he never addresses Colette, either. How Aurora’s father barely speaks at all, and when he does, it is his accented French.

She knows her mother thinks that they have something to bond over, now. Taking care of a little girl. But Aurora doesn’t feel too maternal towards Colette, and honestly, she thinks her mother had it rather easy, with Aurora as a child. She’d always been well behaved, did as she was told. At least until her late teens, and there are still years and years to go until Colette hits those. Aurora kind of dreads when she does already. She remembers her own teenage years. Remembers feeling too big in a world way too small to hold all her ideas. Remembers a burning for freedom, an itch to break out, do something reckless. She really hopes that Colette won’t have the same yearning, because if she does, that may just prove Aurora’s undoing.

“You had a cat?”

Colette asks her when they are already back at the apartment. Aurora looks up from the quick supper she is fixing them, too tired to do any cooking that evening.

“I saw the picture,” Colette shrugs and kicks her legs as she sits on the chair in the kitchen, watching her. The adult woman swallows, then nods.

“Yes,” she confirms. “His name was Remi,” she adds.

“Did he die?”

It’s such a blunt question it makes Aurora blink in surprise. She watches Colette before giving a shrug.

“I suppose he did. He’d be almost thirty now,” she allows. At the child’s curious look, Aurora lets out a sigh. “He ran away,” she tells her and picks up the plates with the sandwiches and carries them over to the table. Sits down opposite Colette and pours the girl a glass of water. “We had a party, my mother’s birthday. One of the guests left the back door open and he escaped. I was, inconsolable,” she frowns at her food. Is struck by the memory of how devastated she was, when she’d discovered her beloved cat was missing from the home. She made posters, even rang the neighbor’s doorbells and asked about Remi, if they’d seen him, if they’d be willing to put out a bowl of milk, see if he might come back around...

“It was a long time ago,” she tells Colette with what she hopes is a reassuring smile. The girl inclines her head and picks at her food.

“You’re not hungry?” Aurora asks her after a few minutes when all the girl does is nibble on her sandwich. She watches as Colette swallows thickly.

“Are you going to send me back?”

Aurora’s jaw drops in surprise. She leans back in her chair and watches Colette carefully.

Another woman might have jumped from their seat and knelt down and grabbed Colette’s hands while promising her she wouldn’t, she’d never, ever send her back to France, to that dreadful place. But she isn’t another woman. Aurora has seen too much to still believe in absolutes, in fairytales and happy endings. She knows things can change, drastically, one day to the next. Something she may not think an option, might not consider even the vaguest possibility, may at some point become the only option she has.

“Why do you ask that?” she finally asks, well aware of not having answered Colette’s question. The girl swallows and Aurora sees her shoulders slump as tears well up in her eyes.

“I’m,” she starts, but trails off. Reaches up and wipes at her eyes, a furious expression on her face. “Your mother,” she finally says. “She looked at me like I’m, wrong.”

Aurora tosses her napkin onto the table. Stands and rounds it before kneeling down next to Colette. Turns the girl’s chair so she will look at her, look down at Aurora.

“People are not things,” she tells her, her voice resolute. “You don’t get to exchange them for something else,” she adds with a slight frown and gives a shake of her head. “You’re not wrong, Colette,” she continues, softer this time. “This war, it’s taken so much. That is all it knew, how to take, and take, and take, never thinking to stop. And I am so, so sorry, that it took from you the way it did," she tells Colette. Reaches out and takes her hands to hold onto them tightly. “And I know it’s not much, but I promise you, you have me. For as long as you want me, you have me. I am not going anywhere. I am not leaving you, not if I can help it. You’re stuck with me, okay?”

The tears spill from Colette’s eyes then. Run down her cheeks and the girl gives a soft sob.

“Your parents don’t like me," she cries and Aurora feels her heart break further. Reaches up to pull Colette into a tight hug and kisses the child’s temple.

“I don’t care,” she tells her. “I like you plenty, just the way you are,” she whispers to her and feels Colette’s arms wrap around her in a tight embrace.

* * *

Nava’s actual birthday is before the one that is given in Colette’s papers. So Aurora figures she can try and see if the girl will allow for a celebration on the actual day.

She remembers once celebrating the event in a small apartment in Paris. With Oscar tossing a laughing Nava into the air and Rachelle helping her daughter unwrap the present René and Aurora had gotten her. Rachelle had been pregnant, then, though she’d barely been showing. It had been a good day. So different, from their routine. It seems like a beautiful dream when viewed amongst the backdrop of the other memories Aurora has from that time. Memories of writing pamphlets and scouting out possible hiding places. Memories of her heart beating in her throat as she passes Nazi soldiers on the street, her face turned slightly away. Not enough to make them suspicious, but still attempting to prevent them from being able to identify her easily.

They’d gotten her a doll, back then. Now, Aurora chooses a dress. Colette rarely touches toys, preferring to read instead. And a dress is something practical, something she needs. Then again, this one is a bit on the pricey side. Something to be worn on special occasions. When she allows herself to hope, Aurora thinks that Colette might wear it to Temple, one day. As it is, she intends for the girl to wear it when Alfred takes them to the movies that evening.

It’s his gift, for Colette. Aurora understands that things like this are important. Other stuff to fill Colette’s mind with, to replace the abundance of bad memories she has. To give her brain something else to cling to, if it’s looking for a movie to keep playing in her head over and over again.

“Do you want some?” Alfred asks at the theater, when Colette keeps glancing at the popcorn stand. To Aurora’s surprise, the girl gives her a silent, pleading look, and she feels her heart give a pang in her chest.

“Go ahead,” she nods and holds out Colette’s hand for Alfred to take. The girl had gripped hers when they’d stepped inside, her hold bordering on painful. Aurora watches as the two of them stand in line, Alfred’s hand resting on Colette’s shoulder, his thumb stroking over the material of her dress.

She watches them and wonders what other people may see. A father out with his daughter? Or a brother taking care of a younger sibling?

It hasn’t escaped Aurora’s notice, how some women look at her when they see her with Colette. Aurora is well aware of her age, and how young she would have been, when Colette had been born. A teenager still, still in school. Add to it the missing ring on her finger, and the looks of some people make a lot more sense. She hopes Colette hasn’t noticed, but it would be a surprise. Truth be told, Aurora sometimes thinks the girl is too observant, for her own good. Just like she could easily tell that Aurora’s mother was looking at her differently.

She pulls herself from her thoughts when Alfred and the girl return, a huge grin on Colette’s face. It makes Aurora wonder how Alfred does it. How he can so easily get a smile from the girl when Aurora feels like she is fighting an uphill battle to simply make her not feel miserable most days. Then again, Colette has always been incredibly responsive to Alfred’s attention. Probably something to do with the orphanage having been run by nuns, and male caregivers being in short supply.

She half-expects Colette to ask to sit on Alfred’s lap. Or to simply do it. The girl doesn’t, though. Insists on sitting between them, much to Aurora’s surprise. She would have thought having Alfred next to her would be enough, but apparently, Colette wants the reassurance that both their presence provides.

Halfway through the film, Aurora feels Colette tense up from the building suspense. Without thinking, she takes the girl’s hand and gives it a soft squeeze, her eyes remaining trained onto the screen. Feels Colette shudder and hold her hand tightly. And then the music swells, and Aurora’s heart skips a beat when Colette turns and hides her face against her side. She turns her head and stares at the girl, dumbfounded. Looks up and meets Alfred’s gaze, a mixture of pride and concern. Swallows and gives a minute shake of her head before she reaches out to wrap an arm around the girl’s slight frame to hold her close.

“It’s okay,” she whispers and rubs her hand down Colette’s back, drawing gentle circles. Colette peeks out from her hiding place. Looks up at her and searches Aurora’s face, and the blonde gives her a smile, hoping to reassure her. It’s just a movie theater, this is just a work of fiction. Nothing bad is going to happen to them here.

Colette swallows, her lips tugging into the hint of an embarrassed smile before she turns her head and chances a glance at the screen again. The fictional world pulls her back in, grabs the girl’s attention anew. Yet Aurora finds herself watching the child next to her for the remainder of the film.

* * *

She’s put the picture of the Café into a frame. The one picture she has, of her friends in the Resistance. Colette’s parents, René, Aurora, JoJo, Pauline.

She hasn’t told Colette yet that her parents aren’t the only ones in that image who died. The child hasn’t asked, and Aurora didn’t see any reason to tell her such a horrible fact.

The picture usually sits on the small bedside table of Colette’s bed. She knows the girl sometimes falls asleep staring at her parents’ faces in the dark, trying to remember something, anything, about her time with them. Almost six years she’d had with them. Plenty of time, some would say. Not enough time, Aurora thinks. So short a period, for a child to know their parents for. When she was nineteen, her mother got seriously ill, and Aurora had feared she might die. Had thought then how cruel it would have been, so lose her so soon. And she’d already had three times the amount of time Colette had been granted with her own mother.

It’s difficult, to explain the way Oscar treated Colette to the girl. His sort of love, the adoration he’d felt for his daughter, it reminds Aurora too much of her own father. She thinks that, given enough time, the two of them might have developed a similar relationship. Aurora loves her father, loves him dearly. When she was a little girl, she’d tought he’d hung the moon, had put it in the sky just for her. He’d been fascinated by her, had looked at her like she was made of stardust. He’d even named her after the dancing lights in the night sky, a natural wonder in its own right.

Aurora remembers Oscar holding Colette on his knee and kissing her temple. Remembers the girl curled up in his arms, fast asleep, a thumb in her mouth. Remembers how Oscar used to talk about her, all the time. Nava this, Nava that. She’d seemed the reason for his every choice, the force behind his every action. It had been the first time Aurora had actually seen another man behave so much like her own father when it came to her. It had always struck her as odd, that a man might have such deep feelings for his child. She knows her father had been subjected to many whispers about the nature of his feelings towards his daughter, but Aurora’s never once doubted the innocence behind them. It had simply been that her father hadn’t been afraid to show everyone how much he cared for his daughter, how much she meant to him, how important she was. And there had been Oscar, who had been driven into the Resistance, in an attempt to make sure that the world his child was growing up in would be a safe one for her.

Nava had been almost six, when the Gestapo had found out, about her parents. They’d tried to run, tried to flee. Aurora and René had met them, in the catacombs, giving forged papers to the parents before accepting the two children into their care. That night, she had seen Oscar and Rachelle for the last time. Watching them say goodbye to their children, watching them promise they would be back, it had nearly broken Aurora’s heart. The next evening, the four of them, René, her, Martin and Colette, had been on a train out of Paris. There’d been no way that they could have looked after the children, every second they spent in their company put them at risk. So they’d agreed, to surrender the siblings to an orphanage that had previously already taken in the child of another Resistance member. It was only after the war that Aurora found out that Oscar and Rachelle hadn’t made it much further than a village just outside of Paris. Someone had tipped the Gestapo off. They’d been arrested, and subsequently deported. It got a little fuzzy after that, they’d been separated at Dora-Mittelbau, Oscar being sent further East. For some reason, he’d been transferred back after a few months, to Dachau, where he’d been reunited with his wife. A short-lived reunion. He’d died only five weeks after arriving at that camp. Rachelle lived for longer. From the records Aurora has seen copies of, Rachelle perished a mere month before Dachau was finally liberated.

Colette finds a picture, of what survivors of the camps looked like. She stares, absolutely horrified at the image. Aurora quickly takes it away and crouches down in front of her. Tells her that this isn’t what her parents would have looked like. She even believes it may have been true, at least where Oscar is concerned. He’d been a worker, his death is listed as an accident, not as a sickness, or starvation, or having been shot. Rachelle is a different matter, and Aurora doesn’t think that Colette needs to know when her mother died, exactly, at least not when she is still this young.

* * *

Aurora spends hours pacing her apartment as she wrings her hands. Isn’t sure if this is a good idea, thinks she may be pushing things too far, asking for too much.

But Alfred encourages her. Tells her that it is worth a shot, to see how Colette will react. Points out to her how it is similar to the Christian tradition of lighting Advent candles. Something that Colette will be familiar with, something she would recognize. Perhaps that will even make it easier, for her to see this as something good, something beautiful.

In late October, her parents received a package from Germany. The neighbors of her Oma and Opa sent a few items they’d rescued from the apartment, before the Nazis seized the property and everything in it. Aurora thinks those people were thieves. Doesn’t even want to begin to imagine how many things they took and sold on the black market to get rich. She doesn’t dare say so in front of her father, though. Knows how much this package means to him. He has so little to remember his parents by, so few artifacts of their lives, that she doesn’t dare taint the ones he has been given further.

Amongst those things is a wooden menorah, complete with intricate carvings. Aurora remembers Hanukah in Germany. Remembers her Opa singing the blessing over the candles in his strong voice. She must have been what? Eight? Perhaps even nine, Aurora isn’t sure. It had been wonderful, then, to watch him light the candles, the light dancing off the windows and every reflective surface in the apartment.

She asks her father on a whim if she could have it. Would completely understand if he said no. He doesn’t. Instead, he nods, and holds it out for her. Mutters how he wouldn’t be able to use it, anyway. Too many memories are linked to it, too much happiness turned to heartwrenching grief.

She practices, in secret. Whispers the words out late at night, tries to get them as close to perfect as she can. She wants to do this right. There’s only this one time, she only gets one chance. No do-overs, no second attempts. Sure, Hanukah is eight nights, but she needs to get the first one right. If Colette reacts badly, Aurora already knows she won’t manage to light the candles in front of the girl again.

Alfred asks her if he could be over, that night. It surprises her, at first, but then Aurora realizes that she’s secretly been wishing for him to say that. That she wants him close, needs his support. Needs the strength she draws from his presence.

On the first night of Hanukah, she puts the shammus candle in the middle of the menorah, and then the first one on the right side before she carries it to the dining table. Sets it down carefully. Colette looks up from the picture she’s drawing on the floor, her dark eyes taking in the scene as Alfred stands from the couch and joins Aurora at the table. The girl slowly rises and walks over.

“What’s that?” she asks, gesturing towards the menorah. Aurora swallows thickly.

“It’s called a menorah,” she supplies and pulls a match book from the pocket of her skirt. Strikes one and lights the shammus candle before shaking out the match and placing the matchbook on the table and the burnt match on it.

Aurora hesitates, for a moment, before she reaches out and takes the candle. Wills her hand to stop shaking so badly. She has to clear her throat before she is able to speak.

“ _Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam_ ,” she begins to intone. Falters, briefly, as she tries to remember the familiar rhythm of the words. Aurora closes her eyes to draw another breath, and suddenly feels a little lighter. Feels as if she isn’t alone in doing this, in standing there in front of Alfred and Colette. Can almost feel her Opa reaching out to touch her hand, to steady it.

“ _Asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’tsivanu l’hadlik ner shel Hanukkah,_ ” she finishes the first blessing and shifts slightly on her feet.

“ _Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, she-asah nisim laavoteinu v’imoteinu bayamim h_ _ahaeim baz’man hazeh._ ”

The second one is easier, she’s found the rhythm, the words are no longer awkward on her tongue.

“ _Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, shehecheyanu v’kiy’manu v’higianu laz’man hazeh_ ,” she finishes the third blessing. Draws a deep breath and lets it out again before she opens her eyes. Slowly reaches out and touches the shammus to the first candle, lighting it. Then returns the shammus candle to its place in the middle of the menorah.

Aurora swallows and grabs the back of the chair for support. Feels tears well up in her eyes and reaches up to cover them with one hand, turning away when she realizes with horror that she won’t be able to stop herself from crying. There’s so much grief, such an onslaught of emotions, that hits her completely out of the blue, that she is helpless to do anything about it. She tries to stifle the sound, but hears Alfred move nonetheless. Feels his hand on her arm and lunges herself at him as he wraps his arms around her. Pulls her close and cradles her as Aurora sobs, her entire soul crying out in pain.

Feels, much to her surprise, small arms circle her middle after a moment. She reaches down blindly, her hand finding Colette’s shoulder, and Aurora holds on tightly as she cries.

It takes her a while to calm down. Takes almost half an hour, before she is able to slowly extract herself from Alfred’s embrace. She excuses herself to the bathroom to clean up, staring at her reflection in shock. She hadn’t been prepared for this sort of reaction, had honestly not anticipated anything like it. Perhaps a tear, that had seemed likely, but nothing as overwhelming as she had felt.

When she returns, she finds to her surprise that Colette has sat down at the table. Is perched on a chair she’s pushed back far enough to allow her to rest her chin on her hands placed on the wood. The girl is intently watching the menorah, watches the candles burn and flicker.

“Hey,” Alfred murmurs as he steps close. Touches her hand and Aurora grabs his, giving it a tight squeeze. She shakes her head minutely, telling him she’s not ready to talk about this, not yet at least. He lets it go, doesn’t push. Instead follows her gaze to the child sitting at the table.

“She’s been like this since you stepped out,” he tells her. “I haven’t asked her, but... I think she’s, trying to remember.”

Aurora swallows thickly and steps closer. Wraps an arm around Alfred’s middle and leans into his side, drawing strength from his proximity. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and keeps her close, and she feels a kiss being pressed into her hair. Lets out a soft sigh as she allows her eyes to close for a moment.

* * *

Alfred asks her to marry him five minutes into the new year. Aurora stares at him, completely dumbfounded, as he stands before her, holding a ring between the two of them. Looks back and forth, between his face and the ring. Sees the sincerity shining in his eyes and can’t help but let out a soft laugh as tears well up in her own. She reaches out and pulls him into a tight embrace and kisses him, for once not caring if Colette sees them like this.

She loves him. Loves him so much, but sometimes she wonders if he really wants, this. Wants her, broken and bruised and so far beyond repair. If he wants Colette, as well. Because that much is for certain, they are a package deal. He marries Aurora, he will get Colette as well.

Colette does find them locked into this tight embrace. Finds them in the hallway of the cottage they fled to, in anticipation of what firework noise does to either one of them. Aurora hates the sounds, so much like gunfire, and she knows Alfred has it even worse. She hadn’t been sure what Colette’s reaction would be, to them, but she hadn’t wanted to risk it, so escaping the city for a week had sounded like a good plan in her book.

Alfred looks at Aurora for permission, and the blonde finds herself hesitating, but then nods. Motions for him to go ahead and tell Colette. It seems only fair that the girl should be the first person to know. She’ll tell her parents in the morning, or the coming days, it’s not like they have to hurry. There’s no need any more. The war is over, they are save, no need to rush things.

Alfred crouches down in front of Colette and watches her face, a serious expression on his.

“I’m going to marry Aurora,” he tells the girl. Aurora feels her heart skip a beat, her stomach doing this strange this it does whenever Alfred says something that confirms he is into this for the long run.

Colette shifts. Looks up, from Alfred’s face, to Aurora’s, searching for confirmation. The blonde nods, a smile flickering across her face. Which falls quickly, when she sees the way Colette’s eyes widen, fear creeping in.

“Hey,” she quickly says and walks over. “Hey, no,” Aurora mutters and takes Colette by her shoulders. "Look at me," she commands her. To her credit, the girl does, though there are tears brimming in her eyes. “This doesn’t change anything,” she informs Colette. Keeps her voice even and calm. “I am not going to send you back to the orphanage, Colette.”

“But, you’ll have your own children,” Colette protests, bursting into tears. Aurora blinks at her before melting and pulling the girl into a tight hug. Holds her close and kisses her cheek, gently rocking her.

“I love you,” she whispers, tightening her hold when she feels Colette clutch at her, sobs shaking her small frame. “I am never, ever going to give you up again, you hear me?”

* * *

The dress for Nava’s birthday, Aurora bought by herself. Went into a shop, actually, a number of them, until she’d found a beautiful light blue dress, and bought it.

She takes Colette to get some new clothes. Takes the child along, this time. She’s been growing like crazy, lately. It feels like Aurora only has to blink, and there’s another blouse that won’t quite fit, another skirt that is getting too short to wear, another dress that refuses to be buttoned up.

It feels, awkward. Like something Rachelle should be doing, like Aurora is encroaching on her territory. Like she’s stolen the rightful place of her friend.

Aurora looks through racks of shirts, and blouses, and lets Colette wander around the shop. She trusts her not to break anything. If anything, the girl seems thoroughly out of her element, completely spooked and afraid to even touch anything, though Aurora does see her fingers strain to reach out and touch some items a few times. Colette always catches herself, though, and doesn’t touch the clothes. Pulls back at the last moment.

“What do you think?” she asks and holds up a blouse for the girl to see. Colette turns and blinks, and finally, shrugs. And Aurora almost rolls her eyes. “Do you want to try it on?” she asks, instead. Colette crinkles her nose and finally shakes her head, prompting Aurora to put the blouse back on the rack.

“Aurora.”

Colette’s voice is so close all of a sudden, it makes the blonde woman jump. She whirls around and finds her standing there, looking at her shyly. Aurora swallows and gives a small shake of her head. Tells her racing heart to calm down, it’s fine, it was just the child. And then her eyes dart to the item Colette is holding, and Aurora feels her eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

She has two pairs of pants, total. One of which came with Colette, from the orphanage. The other, Aurora had picked up in Paris, for their journey back to Canada. She’d figured that the girl might be more comfortable wearing pants, given how cold planes could be, and how little protection from that a dress provided. Since they arrived here, Colette has worn it two times, no more. She much prefers skirts and dresses. Which makes the girl’s choice a little strange.

“Can I please try this on?” she asks, her voice barely audible. Aurora opens her mouth to remind her that they’re looking for things she’ll actually wear, when she catches herself. It would be one thing, to deny Colette if the girl came to her asking for things all the time. But the thing is, she rarely ever does. She talks a lot more, now, and Aurora doesn’t always have to prompt her, doesn’t have to ask after every tiny detail of what happens during her day. Their conversations have stopped feeling so much like pulling teeth and now may actually be passed of as normal conversations between two people. It’s incredible, really. And Aurora really, really doesn’t want to ruin that. Doesn’t want to lose it by inadvertently hurting Colette’s feelings.

And maybe, just maybe, it’s the ‘please’ that does her in.

“Of course,” she answers and gives Colette a smile. “Let’s see how it fits and if you like it, okay?” she adds and steers Colette to the back of the shop. Pauses in front of the cubicle, eyeing the girl.

“Do you want me to...” she trails off. Colette’s eyes widen slightly and she quickly shakes her head no. Aurora inclines hers and holds the curtain back before pulling it closed behind the girl. Crosses her arms and waits, nervously, as Colette changes, out of her skirt and into the pair of pants.

When the curtain is pulled back again, Aurora straightens and takes in the way the pants fit before she looks into Colette’s face, and feels a smile beginning to form on her own.

“Come here,” she mutters and holds out her hand for Colette to take. The girl hesitates briefly before she does, and Aurora gently pulls her over to a full-length mirror. “There,” she tells her, motioning to Colette’s reflection. “Do you like it?” she asks her, watching Colette’s face in the mirror as she takes in the way she looks. Watches as she tilts her head to the side and then her whole body, almost causing Aurora to let out a laugh. It’s so strange, to see a child do this, but then again, Colette won’t be one for that much longer. She’s growing, growing up, and Aurora isn’t so sure if she is ready for that, yet.

She’s so occupied by her own thoughts, she almost misses Colette’s enthusiastic nod, and the grin that appears on the girl’s face.

“Can I keep them on?” she asks her as she turns to face Aurora again. The blonde finds herself blinking in surprise. Well, she did tell her that she could pick one thing she would get immediately, the rest would be presents stretched out over the next few weeks. She’d thought Colette would chose a dainty dress, not a pair of pants. But then, what does it matter? Aurora shifts and nods, reaching out to stroke her hand over Colette’s hair.

“Yes," she tells her, her heart giving a jolt at the happiness settling onto the girl’s face. “But,” she quickly adds, “we still have to find some other things. At least three tops, and skirts, and I’d like for you to get another dress as well.”

“Okay," Colette nods, skipping once, before she catches herself. Her eyes widen and she looks at Aurora, almost horrified. The blonde just shakes her head and reaches out to squeeze her shoulder.

“Any thoughts about what colors you’d like?” she inquires with a light tone, steering Colette back towards the lines of clothing.

* * *

Aurora watches, completely mesmerized, as the seriousness slowly falls off Colette. Watches the girl slowly shed it, like layers.

At first, she laughs more. Giggles, at the radio programme, or a joke Alfred tells, where she would have smiled silently in the past. Breaks into loud, almost hysterical laughter one evening, when Alfred attempts to cook for them, and ends up splashing the front of his shirt with tomato sauce.

Then she begins hopping and skipping. Instead of her quiet, controlled steps, Aurora catches Colette skipping down the hallway, or jump the final two steps from the landing. Sees her do it in the school yard, as well.

Once, Aurora catches Colette standing outside, twirling around and around, the skirt of her dress billowing up, spreading out. Colette has her arms outstretched as she spins and spins and just the sight of it makes Aurora feel dizzy. She’s sent her down to start on collecting the laundry, yet when Aurora steps outside ten minutes after the girl, Colette hasn’t removed a single pin, caught up instead in her twirling. She doesn’t comment, again, just smiles at her and touches Colette’s shoulder before holding out the laundry basket to her.

That is not to say that there aren’t more serious moments. On the contrary. Aurora suddenly finds herself startled by the sharp contrast between those child-like moments and five minutes right after, when Colette’s expression will change and she will be acting again like someone much older than her eleven years. Aurora worries, then, that she hasn’t done something about this sooner. That she hasn’t tried to get Colette to act more like someone her age, instead of the pint-sized adult she’s been.

What completely stuns Aurora, however, is when Colette suddenly leans into her on the sofa one night. She’s long ago given up on forcefully getting the girl to bed. She has a rough bedtime, and Aurora reminds her of it, but the days when Colette doesn’t go to her room, she usually lets her stay up. Ever after realizing that the girl was plagued by her own nightmares, Aurora’s approach has been to let her stay up if she felt she needed to. She hadn’t thought of forcing someone to bed when her own way of dealing with the horrifying things that sometimes plague her own dreams was to stay up longer instead of retiring early and waiting for the horror to come visit her.

That evening, Colette had been reading when Aurora had reminded her of the time, but it is a Friday, and when Colette says she wants to finish the chapter, Aurora decides to let her. She hates putting a book down in the middle of one, too, and there’s no school tomorrow, so really, what is the harm?

Aurora is flicking through a magazine, frowning at a recipe, when she feels Colette lean against her. Tenses, briefly, before she forces herself to relax. Turns her head to look at the child. She’s still holding her book, but has pulled her feet up on the sofa now, stocking-clad feet resting on it. Aurora watches and swallows, and then closes the magazine.

“That can’t be comfortable,” she remarks and feels Colette freeze and tense up. Aurora shifts and wraps her arms around Colette, gently pulling her body up and with her. Leaves her left arm, on the side Colette is resting against, behind the girl, hand settling against her shoulder, thumb stroking over the material of the girl’s shirt.

“Better?” she asks her. Colette doesn’t look at her, but Aurora watches her head move up and down in a nod. Something in her softens, and she almost leans down, to kiss the girl’s dark hair, but manages to stop herself at the last moment, afraid that it would be too much.

From then on, Colette grows more comfortable, with touching her. Leans into Aurora sometimes. Hugs her waist and takes her hand, and sits next to her, cuddling close. Sometimes she even does it without the pretense of a book in her lap. Simply curls up next to Aurora and rests her head against her, a soft sigh escaping her.

That, Aurora thinks, must be what trust is. It’s taken her almost a year, but she’s managed to finally win Colette’s trust.

* * *

Aurora’s not sure if she wants to have children. Isn’t sure she ever wants to be pregnant. Isn’t certain that she’d make a good mother, to an infant. Fears that perhaps she’s too badly broken to have enough love to spare for another person.

It turns out that she may not have much of a choice in the matter. She’d thought that they were careful. In the time Alfred and her have been together, since the war ended, she’s never missed a period, has never been late. With René, there had been a fearful two days, once, in which Aurora had been sick to her stomach, but it had turned out to have been a false alarm.

Aurora catches herself looking at the calendar one day and realizes with a start that her father’s birthday is the next week. She’d been sure that there was more time left, because she’d made a mental note to get him a gift around the time her period would arrive. Only it hasn’t. Aurora feels herself blanch as she picks up the calendar from the wall with one hand, another pressing over her mouth. Goes back and feels her stomach sink further. Seven weeks. She should have gotten her period almost two months ago, how could she have missed this for so long?

She’d been busy, but that is no excuse. Alfred is converting and they’ve been talking, a lot. It’s good, because him studying means Colette’s picked up a new interest in their shared religion, as well. They’ve been talking about seeing if she’d actually like instructions, from a Rabbi. Alfred and her, that is. He thinks Colette might be ready, but Aurora isn’t sure. It’s one thing, to ask Alfred to share what he learns, to occasionally come to Aurora with a question. It’s a completely different one to talk to a stranger about a faith that feels completely foreign to you. Aurora fears that it would ruin all the progress they’ve made this far. Right now, Colette likes to sit with Alfred as he reads. Even tried once to learn some Hebrew letters. It doesn’t seem like much, but to Aurora, it is more than she’d ever dared to hope for, given the child’s initial reactions. She doesn’t want to ruin anything they have built.

When she picks up Colette from school, the girl immediately realizes that something is wrong. She’s taken to come running towards Aurora when she spots her enter the yard, but today, she slows her steps again, approaching the blonde slowly.

“Did you get everything?” Aurora asks her, absent-mindedly fixing the way Colette’s woolen hat sits on her head. The girl nods mutely and holds out her mitten-clad hand for Aurora to take. She doesn’t say anything the whole way to the apartment, but Aurora feels her looking at her every couple of steps, and much to her chagrin, the blonde doesn’t have it in her to offer reassurance.

“What’s wrong?” Colette finally asks after dinner. Aurora’s barely managed to eat anything, her heart still in her throat. She’s forced herself to sit, still, and at least try, for Colette’s sake. Knows that, if she doesn’t eat, neither will the girl. She’s tried that, once, when she’d been on a deadline with the newspaper. Had sat at the table, revising her article, while Colette had been supposed to eat dinner, but the girl hadn’t even picked up her spoon, instead staring at Aurora as she worked, frozen in place.

“Nothing,” Aurora shakes her head and takes her glass of water to drink, to buy herself some time. Sees Colette’s eyes narrow, her lips thinning. Why does she have this uncanny ability to tell whenever Aurora is lying? The blonde lets out a sigh and gives a shake of her head. “It’s nothing, bad,” she tries again, a soft voice in her head whispering, asking if she is so sure of that. “Adult things,” she adds. Colette relaxes a little at that. Looks down at her plate and pushes a piece of meat around listlessly.

“We’re going to move, aren’t we?” she asks, her voice barely audible. Aurora swallows and nods.

“Yes,” she confirms. Truth be told, Alfred has been looking at houses. Has been trying to find something affordable for them. “But not for a while yet,” she hastens to add. They haven’t found a decent place yet, anyway. It’s always either too far from school, or too expensive, or too small. Three bedrooms, one of which they’d wanted to convert into an office. Only now it seems like that won’t be possible. Oh, Aurora could just kick herself.

She opens her mouth to ask after school when she suddenly feels the bile rise in her throat. Quickly drops her fork and runs from the room. She barely makes it to the bathroom before her nerves win and Aurora drops to her knees in front of the toilet, stomach heaving as it rids itself of its contents.

She doesn’t know how long she spends, kneeling there, retching. When it finally stops, she finds Colette in the doorway, holding a glass of water and a washcloth.

“I put on the kettle,” she tells her as Aurora slowly stands, bracing herself against the sink. The woman gives her a look and sees Colette roll her eyes. She’s told her not to touch the stove unless her or Alfred are around to supervise. She doesn’t want Colette to get hurt, doesn’t want her to accidentally burn herself, or set the apartment on fire by accident.

“I wanted to make you some tea,” the child informs her, and Aurora feels her annoyance melt away.

“Thank you,” she mutters and accepts the glass. Rinses her mouth, steadfastly ignoring her reflection. Colette is hovering, shifting from one foot to the other.

“Maybe we should call Alfred,” she offers. Aurora turns around, fear gripping her, before she relaxes.

“I am fine,” she tells Colette. Reaches out to ruffle her hair. “I just need a hot water bottle and some tea. Besides, Alfred is busy tonight,” she adds. At Colette’s suddenly furrowed brows, Aurora cannot help but let out a soft laugh. “He’s allowed to make plans without your permission, you know,” she teases her. Colette scowls at her and Aurora sobers. Shifts and lets her hands fall from Colette’s shoulders.

“Come. Let’s have some tea, huh,” she mutters and leaves the bathroom for the kitchen, not waiting for the girl to follow.

* * *

She watches as Colette lies on her bed, curled into a tight ball, her back to the door. It’s been two hours since she bolted from the room. Aurora figured that she would give her some time, let her cool off a little.

Slowly, she uncrosses her arms and runs her hands down her skirt to smooth it out. Steps into the room and walks over to sit at the foot of the girl’s bed. Colette’s doesn’t move, but Aurora hears the girl’s breath catch briefly.

“I am sorry,” Aurora apologizes, her voice soft. Sees Colette stiffen slightly and knows the girl heard her. “Please believe me when I say I didn’t plan for this to happen,” she adds and brushes her hair behind her ear. “Colette, look at me, please," she pleads when the girl remains still and silent. Waits with baited breath, until Colette lets out a sigh and shifts. Turns onto her back to glare at Aurora, dark eyes filled with betrayal. The blonde closes her eyes for a second, willing down her own tears.

“I don’t know what to say,” she confesses. Opens her eyes again and looks at Colette, silently pleading with the girl to tell her what it is she needs from her. Her reaction to the news of Aurora’s pregnancy has been bad. Aurora expected tears, expected some confusion. But she hadn’t expected Colette to jump from the table and run from the room. The girl hasn’t done that in a while, hasn’t fled from her in months.

“Why?” Colette asks. Shifts and pushes herself up into a sitting position as Aurora furrows her brows.

“Why what?” she inquires. “Why am I pregnant?” she adds, suddenly horrified of having to explain to the girl how that works. How she ended up carrying Alfred’s baby. Colette swallows and then nods.

“I didn’t plan for it this,” Aurora offers weakly. “It just, happened. Alfred and I, we weren’t trying to have a child.”

“But you are now,” Colette states. Looks away, her jaw working. Aurora swallows and shifts on the bed to lean forward. Gently taps the back of Colette’s palm to make her look at her again.

“It doesn’t change what I told you,” she tells her. “You’re with me, and Alfred. Neither one of us wants to change that.”

Colette gives her a suspicious look before dropping her eyes onto the duvet. Aurora watches her, takes in her defeated demeanor, the way the girl’s shoulders are slumped.

“To be honest,” she begins, “I am terrified,” Aurora confesses. Colette looks up sharply at that. Stares at her with surprise written all over her features. “It’s true,” the adult nods. “This, this is...” she trails off with a helpless gesture. “Too much,” Aurora frowns, willing her hand to stay still on the duvet, to not stray and touch her developing bump. “If I could take this back-” she starts, but cuts herself off with a trembling breath. It’s not that she means it. Not in any permanent sense, at least. Part of her does want to have Alfred’s children, but it is too soon. They’re still reeling, from the war. Still trying to piece themselves back together. Having to do that while taking care of Colette has been difficult enough. Aurora doesn’t even want to begin to imagine how hard it will be, with an infant depending on her.

“I can’t promise you that nothing will change,” Aurora tells the girl. Searches Colette’s dark eyes and wills her to believe her. Wills her to trust her on this. “But I promise I will still love you, when the baby comes. I love you, Colette. Alfred loves you. We wouldn’t change you for the world. Please believe that.”

The girl swallows and looks away, her fingers clutching at the duvet, burying into the material.

Aurora remains silent after that. Just sits there, as Colette tries to work through her emotions. Watches her and takes her hand after a while. Holds onto it tightly and feels infinite relief when Colette squeezes back after a few minutes.

* * *

Her mother is trying. Aurora can see the strain, can see how much she wants to do the right thing. How hard she is working, to come up with something to say, to keep the smile on her face when all she receives in reply from Colette is silence.

She doesn’t know what to do, either. It took Colette months to speak at school. To talk, in class, and outside of it, as well. To really say something, aside from yes and no. Aurora thinks that the nuns maybe overdid it. Drilling into the child the importance of silence, of staying quiet and hidden, that was important, crucial even, during the war. But now she has an eleven year old on her hands that retreats back into herself when strangers try to make conversation, and it is growing rather exhausting.

She’s doing well at school, and at home. It was a setback, when Colette found out about the baby. She’d barely spoken for almost a week, but now she does again. She is helping out a lot in the house, as well. To the point where Aurora has caught herself thinking she should tie Colette to a chair, in order to get the girl to take a break. She’s back to acting so very much like an adult again, is trying to hard to take care of Aurora and to make herself useful that it makes Aurora’s heart ache. She wishes she had a way of making Colette understand that her staying with Alfred and her is not dependant on them finding her useful. She loves this little girl, with the dark eyes and hair, and freckles. Loves her more than she’d have thought possible, with her heart shattered in so many pieces. It’s not an easy kind of love, but then again, Aurora isn’t certain she knows what that feels like any more. Every time she finds herself growing attached to someone, it always hurts. It’s always incredibly painful, so much so that at times, she wishes she could just stop.

Loving Alfred isn’t any better. It’s easier, in a way, but still just as painful, just as breathtaking and heartwrenching. The immediate danger they used to be in has long passed, but Aurora still finds herself fearing that he will be taken from her. Fears that all this love she feels will be left with no one there to receive it, and what would she do then?

Her parents are excited, about the baby. And when she’s with them, Aurora forces smiles and allows herself to be just a little excited, herself. The major part of her is still terrified. Still thinks that this is too much, too soon. Still makes her wonder if she shouldn’t have taken care of this in a different way. But from the moment she knew, she’d already felt a piece of her heart bury itself in the knowledge, and it had refused to budge, no matter how hard she’d tried to separate it from the baby again.

Her mother knits tiny socks, and a little hat. She gives then to Aurora, during Shabbat. She’s so relieved, then, that she starts to cry and has to step from the room, in order to calm herself down. She’s just started feeling movements, soft flutters, and here she has the tiniest of clothes in her hand. Clothes for the baby she is carrying, signs of a future she doesn’t dare to think of, most days. So many things could go wrong, this could still be ripped away from her so easily, and Aurora simply cannot allow herself to become too attached.

It is only after she has calmed down somewhat that she realizes she has to talk to her mother, again. About Colette. About including her. Alfred and her, they have been trying, have been working so hard to ensure that Colette knows the baby won’t change anything about their feelings for her. To make sure she knows how much they care for her. Of course it will be different. It will be a baby, a helpless thing, depending on Aurora to take care of it in a way Colette never needed her to. But that doesn’t mean the baby will be more important to her. She needs Colette to know that, and to believe it, too. And her mother doing something for the baby she doesn’t do for Colette, it isn’t an option, not as far as Aurora is concerned. It sounds so stupid, so much like overcompensation, but it seems like the only thing that might work. To mirror everything they do in preparation for the baby with something they do for or with Colette. Just the other day, when Alfred and her were talking about getting a crib, they were also thinking of getting a new dresser, for Colette’s room.

When she steps back into the living room, she finds Colette holding a cloth to her chest. The girl hugs it tightly, is almost curled around it. When she sees Aurora, she jumps from the sofa and runs over. Throws herself at her, arms wrapping tightly around the blonde.

“Colette!” her mother calls out, eyes widening in fear as Aurora takes a staggering step back. She catches herself and shakes her head quickly at her mother as she wraps her arms around the girl currently attached to her waist. Runs her fingers through her hair and makes soft shushing sounds before she crouches down. To be better able to hold Colette and look at her, to be able to talk her down from whatever it is. The girl is crying, hard, heaving sobs shaking her still small frame, and Aurora feels her heart break for her again. She should have come back sooner. Should have told Colette she’d be fine, that nothing is wrong.

Carefully, she takes the cloth from the child, with the intention of holding her hands. But then Aurora looks at it, really looks at what Colette was holding, and realizes it is a sweater. A hand-knit sweater in a beautiful green. It’s incredibly soft to the touch. Surprised, Aurora looks up. Looks at her mother, who gives a helpless shrug. If she’d had thought she would get any reaction from Colette for the gift, she probably hadn’t expected tears.

“It’s alright,” Aurora whispers, understanding dawning on her. It is one thing, for her and Alfred to tell Colette they love her just as much as they will love the baby. The girl has no reason to believe them, no reason at all to trust that. After all, she has seen children return to the orphanage when it came down to a choice between them and the biological children of their caregivers.

But Aurora’s mother did this. When excited for her firstborn grandchild to arrive, she also made a gift for Colette. She thought of her, the sweater is proof that she cares about her even when Colette is not at the house, isn’t in her sight.

Aurora thinks it might be exactly what Colette needs to start to believe what her and Alfred have been trying to tell her. That she just as important to them as the baby is.

* * *

The letter comes when Mathéo is fourteen weeks old.

Colette knows she had a brother. Aside from the baby, that is. Aurora had told her by accident. She’d thought that the girl surely remembered, but either she’d repressed the memory on her own, or the nuns had drilled it into her. Colette does remember a baby, but she’d been told that they’d merely arrived at the orphanage the same day, by coincidence. If she had the chance, Aurora would like to give those nuns a piece of mind. It is one thing, wanting to protect a child, but to mess with their memory like this, to yank away the one family connection they still have, that seems so needlessly cruel to her.

She’s made inquiries, about Colette’s brother. About little Martin. Thought that it might be good, for Colette, if she could write to him. If she knew where he was, maybe even had a picture. It takes her most of the second half of her pregnancy to gather the information, and when it comes, Aurora wishes she hadn’t ever thought of looking for the boy at all.

He was taken in by an older couple. Older than Aurora by some years. He was at the orphanage for barely five weeks before they had stopped by. And the nuns had decided that it would be saver, for the siblings, to be separated. Back then, they’d thought Colette wouldn’t stay with them for long, either. A beautiful little girl like her, a couple was sure to pick her up. But then the weeks had turned into months, and then years, and the war had been over, and Colette had still been with them.

The name of the village Martin was brought to rings a faint bell in Aurora’s memory. She shows Alfred, who frowns at the word, and then pales. She realizes then that something horrible must have happened there, but the magnitude of it, it still shocks her. Martin’s village was chosen for Nazi reprisals. During one summer afternoon, trucks rolled into town, and wiped out its entire population. All of them. Women, the elderly, even the children, gone forever. Terre-du-fils all over again.

She knows she’ll have to tell Colette, eventually. Will have to explain how Martin died. So far, Aurora has only told her he was killed during the war. She didn’t have it in her to tell how. Left Colette to think that it was an accident.

And then the letter comes, and Aurora stares at the words, uncomprehending for a moment.

The village had warning. Half an hour before the trucks came, they found out what was going to happen to them. Too little time for all of them to hide, but enough to get some people to safety. To have some young women gather a handful of children and hide in the woods. And Colette’s brother, he’d been amongst them. He’d survived the reprisal while his adoptive parents had perished. He’d been two at the time. Some men from a neighboring village had come, after darkness, and found the survivors hiding in the woods. Another couple took Martin in, passed him off as their son who’d died in infancy. He’d survived.

Attached it a picture, of a grinning little boy. He has freckles, just like Colette, and his grin turns his eyes into slits, same as hers. His name is Émil now, and Aurora bursts into tears of relief when she sees that the picture was taken only three weeks ago, shortly before the letter was written.

* * *

When Colette comes home, Aurora usually fixes her something to eat, and they talk about her day, before the girl sits down to do her homework. On the days when Alfred is home, homework usually gets postponed and the two of them will talk and play for an hour or so.

So Aurora is sufficiently surprised when Colette slams the door to the house closed one day and runs up the stairs, the next sound being her bedroom door slamming behind her.

“Maman,” Mathéo squirms and tugs on her skirt. She looks down at him and tousles his light hair before pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"Be good for me, okay?” she tells him. “I’ll check on Colette, I’ll be back in a minute, alright?” she adds, waiting for the boy to nod before she leaves him in the living room.

Two weeks ago, Alfred painted Colette’s name on her door in purple. Aurora had asked him, once, what color Colette is. She knows she is blue, and Mathéo is speckles of green amongst a beautiful shade of sky blue. Alfred had told her it’s a mixture of yellow and orange, mostly, reminding him in a strange way of the dress Aurora wore, when they first met.

Aurora knocks on the door twice before opening it. It’s a concession to Colette growing older, of her needing some privacy every once in a while. She usually respects when she closes her door and doesn’t walk in, but what happened just moments ago does have her worried.

She finds Colette sitting on her bed, clutching a pillow to her stomach.

“Go away," she breathes, curling in on herself. Aurora opens her mouth to reply, to placate and tell her she will, once she is sure that Colette isn’t hurt. But the tears in the girl’s voice make her pause.

“Are you alright?” she asks and steps into her room, slowly walking over to Colette’s bed. The girl turns her head, looks away from Aurora. Hides her face as best as she can as Aurora sits down next to her.

She reaches out, gently brushing Colette’s hair behind her ear before rubbing a hand down her back.

“What happened?” she inquires, keeping her voice soft. “You don’t have to talk to me about it,” she adds when Colette remains silent, only the occasional sniffle escaping her. “But it might help to talk to someone.”

Colette shudders and slowly turns her head, Aurora’s breath catching in her throat when she sees the tear tracks on her cheeks, the anguish in her dark eyes.

“I don’t want to be a woman,” she whispers before bursting into a fresh bout of crying. Aurora blinks, uncomprehending, before everything that was strange, these past two weeks, clicks into place.

How Colette has been on edge, how Aurora found herself getting annoyed with the girl’s short temper. The rapid changes in the teenager’s mood, the way she would go from laughing her head of to being sullen and cranky within five minutes or even less at times.

“Oh love,” she murmurs and wraps her arm around Colette. Gently guides her to rest against her. Colette shudders again, turning her face into Aurora’s clavicle, her shoulders shaking as she cries. She runs her hand through her hair, making shushing sounds as she tries to figure out what to say, how to react.

She was fourteen herself, when she first got her period. It had been a weekend, thankfully. Aurora cannot imagine being caught by surprise by this in the middle of a school day. She probably would have run to the nurse’s office and cried her eyes out for her mother. That Colette didn’t, that she somehow managed to make it through the entire day without the school calling, it’s a bit of a surprise. Her mother had hugged, and then made a chocolate cake and a hot water bottle for her. It had been strange, but also nice, in a way. She’d felt too old to cuddle with her mother any more, but that day had been a nice exception, the two of them curling up in bed and just talking, about everything and nothing at all.

Aurora wonders, briefly, what Rachelle would have done. How Colette would have reacted to this, if she had had her mother, her real mother, to fall back on, to come home to. She probably wouldn’t have sat through school like this, Aurora thinks. She’d have felt better, about coming home, about going to her mother about this. The truth is, she thinks Colette has been missing Rachelle especially hard lately, and this surely does not help matters any.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters and rubs a hand down Colette’s back, wondering what it was her mother had said, all those years ago. She’s tried to explain these things before, somewhat. Where babies really do come from, that is. She’s even talked to Colette in the most general terms about menstruation once, the first cycle Aurora’s had after giving birth. It had been a bad one, she’d nearly been knocked on her ass by the cramps, and her mood hadn’t been the greatest, cramps and a splitting headache making her temper rather short for a few days. But she’d thought she had more time to explain how everything works. Had thought that there would be early signs and Colette would come to her about them, but apparently, the girl decided not to, to try and deal with everything on her own.

“It sucks, I know,” Aurora sighs. Colette’s sobs falter briefly, and she leans back, watching her. Aurora shrugs lightly and brushes her hair behind her ear. “What?” she asks, brows furrowing lightly at Colette’s expression.

“I thought I was supposed to be happy about it,” she offers meekly, her voice hoarse from her crying. And Aurora can’t help herself, she just has to laugh. She quickly covers her mouth with her hand, though, and shakes her head.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes. “I’m not laughing at you, just... I guess it may be something to be happy about, in the beginning,” she offers, “but trust me, the novelty wears off, and after a couple of years of this, it can get pretty annoying.”

Colette’s brows twitch and Aurora sees her lips tug upwards in the hint of a smile for the briefest moment.

"It hurts,” the girl mutters, curling in on herself again.

“I know,” Aurora sighs. “Would you like a hot water bottle? It helps me, usually,” she asks her. The girl swallows, then nods.

“Alright,” Aurora nods, patting Colette’s back. “I’ll be downstairs, get the bottle for you, okay? You can lie down, and try and,” she guides Colette down onto her side, moving the girl’s legs back when she curls up again. “Try and relax,” she tells her. “It’s less bad, when you’re not so tense.”

Colette gives her an incredulous look at that, and Aurora inclines her head slightly in acknowledgement. Yes, that was a stupid thing to say, she gets it.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” she tells her and strokes Colette’s hair back from her forehead. “If you don’t feel better tomorrow, you don’t have to go to school, okay?” she adds and sees Colette relax a little.

When Alfred gets home a few hours later, Aurora quickly pulls him aside into the kitchen. Tells him what happened, and watches as he pales visibly and swallows hard. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“What do I do?” he asks, his voice breathless, shaking slightly. Aurora searches his face and shakes her head again as she cradles it.

"Nothing,” she tells him, her voice a whisper. “There is nothing you can do,” she adds at his look, his expression of slight annoyance. It’s not like she’s excluding him because he’s a man, it’s that there really is nothing for him to do. Except maybe not treating Colette any different, now. She’s still the same girl she was the day before. There no turning into an adult over night, no magic switch that gets flicked in a girl the moment she starts her first period.

“Should I,” Alfred starts and clears her throat. "I was going to ask if she wanted to come with me, to the movie theater. There is a film playing right now that I thought she would like.”

Aurora thinks, for a moment, and then nods.

“It might do her some good,” she agrees. “Get her mind off, this.”

“Right,” Alfred mutters and squeezes her hand as he takes her in. “Are you alright?” he asks, lowering his voice further. Aurora gives a shuddering exhale at his question and finally shakes her head.

"I don’t know,” she admits. “I feel like I, failed her. I should have talked to her about this months, years ago. She got caught by surprise by this because I couldn’t work out a way to address it, couldn’t make myself discuss it with her...” she trails off and gives a shake of her head. “That she’s so, tense, so confused, that’s on me. It shouldn’t have happened-”

“She didn’t talk to you, either,” Alfred reminds her, his voice steady. “And I am not blaming Colette. But if you’d known about her discomfort, the last few days, you would have done something. You can’t read her mind, Aurora.”

“Her behavior was all over the place,” she argues. “I should have sat down with her, I should have tried to work out what was going on. I should have realized what was happening much sooner. I missed this, completely, and there’s no way for me to fix it now.”

She inclines her head and shifts, guilt gnawing at her. Feels Alfred’s hands on her shoulders, holding her, steadying her.

“I’m sure she will be fine.”

“Alfred,” Aurora mutters and looks at him. “Do you have any idea what it is like? I don’t mean the pain, I mean pulling down your pants and finding blood on them. It’s terrifying. Some girls actually think they’re going to die. And she had to do this alone, all by herself. So please don’t talk about something you don’t understand, don’t dismiss it like that,” she shakes her head. “In the long term, you’ll probably be right, Colette will be fine. But right now she isn’t, and that is on me, at least to an extent.”

“I’m sorry,” Alfred apologizes. Shifts, and then his face lights up a little. “Why don’t you two go? To see the movie, I mean,” he adds at Aurora’s confused look.

“It was your idea-”

“I think she needs you more than me, right now. It’ll be good, for both of you. To spend some time together. You said you don’t want her to go to school tomorrow, give her a long weekend to recuperate. Take her to the theater. I’ll stay home, watch Matti. You girls go and have a nice day. Have dinner at a restaurant, too.”

Aurora watches him. Contemplates his suggestion and finds herself being drawn to the idea.

“Do you really think you could watch Mathéo?” she asks, her brows furrowing. Alfred shrugs.

“I’ll call in a moment, tell them I need the day off. If it doesn’t work out, we can always ask your parents, or Isabelle,” he suggests their helpful neighbor. She’s watched the children before, and their son likes her well enough to spend a few hours with her. It is rather short notice, but the longer Aurora thinks about it, the more she wants to do it. It’s been a while, since Colette and her had an extended period of time together outside the house, just the two of them.

“Alright,” Aurora agrees and feels her lips tug into a smile. “Thank you,” she murmurs and leans in for a gentle kiss. Alfred’s lips against hers are soft. They linger for a moment before he pulls back, and Aurora isn’t sure what she did right, to end up with a man as fantastic as he is. It must have been something big.

* * *

When their son was born, Aurora and Alfred tried to talk to Colette, about maybe changing her name. Not her last name. When Alfred and her got married, they made the conscious decision of not changing Colette’s last name. She’s tried to explain to the girl, that it’s not a punishment, not an intention of excluding her from the family. Rather, Aurora had thought that it would have been too much in too short a period of time. The news of her pregnancy, moving, her getting married to Alfred, all of it had upset Colette and thrown her off kilter. So she’d thought leaving her name, at least for the time being, it might help Colette’s sense of security. To have something that wasn’t changing. What Aurora and Alfred had been wondering, with all the talk about a name for the baby, had been if Colette would like to try out the name given to her by her parents. Back then, the girl had shaken her head and refused, and never mentioned it again, so both of them had backed off.

A few days before she turns sixteen, Colette asks if she could have her original first name added to her papers, as a middle name. Aurora is busy trying to wrestle her son into the tub, water splashing everywhere. She nearly drops the boy, and he shrieks, and she gets completely soaked before she calls for Alfred. Her husband stares at the scene, a naked, shivering Mathéo with tears on his face, his wife completely soaked, and Colette standing in the doorway to the bathroom, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

Aurora hands Mathéo off to his father, and then gently pulls Colette from the bathroom and into the bedroom she shares with Alfred. Aurora grabs a clean dress and turns to change, using the back of the other one to pat herself dry.

She’s never tried to call Colette, Nava. Aurora always thought it’s a beautiful name. It is something Colette’s parents chose, for their daughter. But that is exactly the thing. Colette can barely remember anything at all about her parents. She doesn’t remember them ever calling her by her name, and what Aurora thought might help her reconnect with her heritage actually turned out to be too painful a reminder of what she’s lost to the girl.

Which is why it surprises her, this sudden request. She tells Colette as much. Sits down on the bed and watches her. Colette hesitates before she steps close and sits down next to Aurora, their shoulders not quite touching.

“I, was talking, to Rabbi Glass,” she starts, her brows furrowing. “I don’t know how it came up, but he told me that, Nava, it means beautiful.”

Aurora shifts and reaches out, gently brushing a strand of hair from Colette’s face and behind her ear. It’s escaped her French braid. She’s pretty sure Colette went to school without one, and Aurora suddenly wonders who did her hair for the brunette. Colette never really talks about having friends at school. There have been a few mentions of two or three names, in particular, and Aurora thinks she spends most of her time with those girls, but in the years she has been living with Aurora, Colette has never invited anyone over, and she rarely gets invited to other children’s houses, either.

“I know,” Aurora nods, a soft chuckle escaping her. Colette looks up at her, giving her a confused look, and the blonde quickly shakes her head. “I guess I’m just realizing... Our parents probably were overwhelmed when the two of us were born. Considering our names, I mean.”

Colette’s lips twitch briefly, and she inclines her head, her hands smoothing out the duvet on either side of her.

“You told me, my father picked my name,” she reminds Aurora. Who swallows thickly before she nods.

“That is what Rachelle said,” she confirms. “Your mother, when she was pregnant with Mar- Émil,” she quickly corrects herself. It’s easy, to remember Colette’s name, but with her brother, Aurora sometimes slips up. She hasn’t met the boy yet, hasn’t seen him since he was a little baby, and she keeps thinking of him as Martin.

“She told me she’d intended it as a joke. To let Oscar, your father, pick your name. She’d been sure he’d come up with something, antiquated, something that wouldn’t fit you at all. And then he’d said that, and... I think it was one of those moments when someone else could see just how much he loved you.”

Colette’s jaw clenches and Aurora wonders if she said too much. But Colette shakes her head briefly.

“It is strange,” she mutters. “Between the two of them, I think I miss him more?” It sounds like a question as the teenager shifts. Crosses her arms again, presses then tightly against her chest. “I miss them both, but when I think of Papa, it, hurts, more.”

That is new, as well. That Colette calls her father papa now, when he speaks of him. She calls Aurora and Alfred by their names, has never used anything else, aside from ‘idiot’ for Alfred, once, during a particularly emotional outburst when he’d overstepped her boundaries and not realized it.

Aurora stays silent for a few moments, thinking.

“We can look into doing this,” she finally tells Colette. “Is it only your middle name you want to add?” she inquires carefully. Watches, as Colette shifts.

“It would mean a lot, to you, if I changed my last name, right?” the teenager inquires. Immediately, Aurora shakes her head no.

“No,” she tells her, and pauses at the surprised look she receives from Colette. “Well, yes, it would mean a lot,” she admits. “But please do not do this because of what it would mean to Alfred, or me,” she adds. “When Alfred and I married, I honestly thought of keeping my name, for a moment. I didn’t, for many reasons, one of which was that I thought I would benefit from the reminder that this was permanent, that it wouldn’t be taken away from me again. But I understand how important it is, to you. So much has happened, and I get that, when you’re trying to figure out who you are, who you were and who you are becoming, some fixed points for reference can be very important. Neither Alfred nor I are mad about it, or sad. We want you to be happy. If you honestly want to change your last name to Graves, we’ll do that, and we’ll be very happy about it. But your last name, whatever it is, it doesn’t change that you are a part of this family. Whether you go by Valois, or HaLevi, or Graves, you’re with us, and you’re not gonna get rid of us anytime soon.”

Colette inclines her head, a soft sniffle escaping her. Aurora reaches out and touches the girl’s back gently, and the brunette leans over, resting against her side wordlessly.

“I love you,” Aurora whispers and presses a soft kiss to Colette’s hair as she wraps her arm around her shoulder to hold her tightly.

* * *

When she gets up in the morning, she finds the table set for breakfast. There’s fresh croissants and bagels, and coffee, too. Mathéo’s spot has a cup of cocoa waiting for the boy that is still steaming hot.

Aurora stares, utterly surprised. She slept in the guest bedroom, or at least attempted to do so. Truth be told, she only managed like three hours of sleep, total. The rest of the time, she’s been lying awake, staring at the ceiling, or tossing and turning. And crying. Lots of crying, until she’d finally exhausted herself shortly after four and fell into a fitful slumber. So considering all this, she hasn’t noticed Alfred get up and start on breakfast. Aurora shifts and crosses her arms, making a mental note to thank her husband.

She hears the water run in the bathroom briefly, before the door opens, and Aurora turns to face the hallway. And finds not her husband walking into the room, but Colette.

“Oh,” the eighteen year old breathes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you...” she apologizes, and Aurora feels her jaw going slack. She points at the table, trying to get her surprise back under control.

“You did this?” she asks, and sees Colette give a shrug.

“I thought it was the least I could do, considering...” the brunette trails off. Inclines her head briefly to stare at the floor. “About last night,” she begins with a shaky breath. Aurora swallows and turns, deciding that, if they’re going to do this right now, she’ll need some coffee. A lot, actually, but a cup will be a good start. She walks over and pours herself some, before nodding towards Colette’s place wordlessly with a raised eyebrow. The teenager nods, once, and starts to walk over slowly.

“Yes, please,” she mutters and picks up the steaming mug after Aurora has poured coffee and milk into it.

The blonde sits down and takes a sip of her coffee. Closes her eyes as a hum of appreciation leaves her. When she opens them again, she finds Colette leaning with her back against the wall, staring into the depth of her mug.

“I am sorry,” she apologizes, her voice soft. “I know that, what I did, it was, stupid,” she tells Aurora.

“Then why did you do it?” she inquires, genuinely curious. Colette shifts slightly and raises a hand to brush her hair from her face.

“I just wanted to feel, numb, I guess,” she answers, her brows furrowing slightly. “I didn’t leave with the intention of getting drunk,” she adds. Looks up to meet Aurora’s eyes, and the blonde feels slightly relieved to see that she’s telling the truth. At least she didn’t raise a liar. A small comfort, considering that Colette went out to “see a friend” last night, and came home around midnight, barely able to keep standing upright. Coming to think of it, how did she even get home? Aurora suddenly hopes that neither Colette, nor one of her friends was stupid enough to drive while drunk. Prays that the girl had enough sense left to take a cab, or that one of her friends stayed sober, in order to drive.

“Peter’s father brought home some bottles of vodka a while back, and we just...”

“So you didn’t go to Josie’s house,” Aurora shakes her head. Perhaps she was too quick to judge, about the not having raised a liar thing.

“That’s what Alfred suggested,” Colette reminds her. "I never said I wanted to see her, specifically...” she trails off at Aurora’s expression. It’s not the first time Colette used that particular loophole. Not outright lying about where she is going to be, but also not correcting any false assumptions Aurora or Alfred may have made. If she were younger, Aurora would ground her, for at least a week. But the fact is, she’s eighteen. She’s old enough to drive, and make her own choices, and if they’re not ones Aurora likes, well, tough luck.

“I am sorry,” Colette tells her as she walks over to sit at the table opposite Aurora. Places her mug down carefully and looks at her hands. “The truth is, I... I don’t know what to do,” she admits, her voice barely audible. “I am so, angry,” she shakes her head and reaches up to brush the tears from the corners of her dark eyes. Aurora watches, taken aback. “He wasn’t supposed to go. He promised me he’d help me with my college applications. How could he just, leave, like that?” Colette asks, her voice trembling.

“I don’t know,” Aurora replies, fighting back her own tears. She closes her eyes and takes a few shuddering breaths, willing herself to get a grip.

She never thought that her father would be the first to go. That he’d be the one to die first, the first one to leave her by herself. She would have taken any bet that it would be her mother. The past year had been filled with some health scares, and Aurora has watched her slowly deteriorate, right before her very eyes. But her mother is fine, as fine as she can be, considering she just lost her husband. No, it was her father, who had a heart attack in the middle of the night, and wouldn’t be roused the next morning. She sincerely hopes that Alfred doesn’t die like this. Because Aurora doesn’t think she’d ever be able to go to sleep again, if she woke up to his unseeing eyes staring right at her.

She shakes her head at the image and draws a deep breath. Part of this is her fault. She shouldn’t have let Colette leave. Should have made her sit Shiva with her. But Aurora had been exhausted, and she hadn’t had it in her to argue with her. Colette had wanted to get out of the house, and Alfred had been all for it, saying she probably needed someone else to talk to, someone who wasn’t grieving, themselves. So Aurora had let her go, with the promise to call, should she decide to stay at Josie’s for the night. And then it had been dinner, and Colette hadn’t come back, and hadn’t called, and it had gotten later, and later, and later, until shortly past midnight, Colette had staggered into the house, and Aurora had felt her fingers itch with the desire to slap the other woman.

In all the years Colette has been with her, Aurora has never laid a hand on her. Not on purpose, that is. She once hit her, out of reflex, when Colette’s touch had yanked her from a horrible nightmare, and she’s accidentally smacked her upside the head with a box when they’d moved house. But last night, she’d come very close to leaving a five-fingered mark on the girl’s cheek, and she isn’t sure if she would have regretted doing it.

“I miss him,” Colette whispers and closes her eyes for a moment. “Would you... I don’t think I want to go to the funeral,” she adds. Aurora frowns at the words. Watches the brunette, takes in her slumped posture, and decides in that moment that, no matter what Alfred’s opinion is, no matter how much the two of them agree on allowing Colette to make her own decisions, this isn’t something Colette will get to do.

“You are going to attend,” Aurora informs her, her voice leaving no room for argument. Colette blinks in surprise. Stares at Aurora, her mouth moving soundlessly for a moment.

She’s not used to Aurora giving her what sounds eerily like an order. The blonde can’t really remember a time when she did something like that. Sure, she’s grounded Colette, revoked TV privileges, and similar things, but when it came down to it, she’s always at least tried to take Colette’s opinion into consideration. Especially as she grew older. Even more so now, that she has turned eighteen, and Aurora feels like any power she may have had over the other woman has vanished over night. She’s not her mother, she’s simply her legal guardian, and if push came to shove, well, Colette would probably be considered old enough not to have to listen to anything Aurora tells her to do or not do.

It’s not that she’s angry with her for not wanting to go. It’s not that Aurora thinks it disrespectful to not attend the funeral of a person that meant a lot to her. It’s simply that she’s realized just a moment ago that Colette never got that kind of closure before. It will be the first death in her life where there will be a funeral Colette can attend, and Aurora wants her to. Thinks that she has to do this, in order to learn how to process her grief. Feels like Colette will need this, if there is any way she might get closure.

Her parents died miles and miles away from her, in a different country, under horrendous conditions, and Colette never got closure, never got to say goodbye in the way the child would have needed. Aurora knows that the gaping hole left behind by the Holocaust is still painfully raw for the young woman, that it still bleeds heavily at times. She feels much the same way, truth be told, and she doesn’t know how to help Colette heal. During her darkest hours, Aurora thinks that there is no healing, no true recovery from what happened during the Third Reich.

But this time, it’s different. There is no war, and there will be a funeral, and Aurora thinks that it’ll help. As much as it may pain her, as difficult as Colette might find attending the funeral of the man who was essentially her grandfather, Aurora does believe that it will be good for her, in the long run. That it will help her get some closure, that perhaps it will facilitate a grieving process that is about more than just losing Aurora’s father.

* * *

She almost asks what happened to the boy Colette has been seeing. Pardon, not boy. At twenty, he would be considered a man, probably. Aurora still has difficulty, thinking of the baby-faced guy that’s sat at their table one evening as anything other than a child. At twenty, she had been focusing on her degree in journalism. Aurora doesn’t think any of the men she went out with were ever so innocent as the boy, MAN, that Colette brought home. Then again, it is a different time now. Only, Aurora thinks, Colette is too much an adult, too much a woman, to be playing around with boys. And apparently, the brunette has realized as much. Only not in the way that Aurora ever thought possible.

“Pardon?” she gets out. Wonders, briefly, if perhaps she’s started going deaf prematurely. Then again, the wide eyes staring back at her tell her she’s heard Colette just right.

“I am so, sorry,” the younger woman gets out. Lowers her eyes, her hands in her lap as she sits in front of Aurora. And the blonde feels her heart break.

“Oh, love,” she breathes and reaches out. Places her hand on Colette’s clasped ones and gives a hard squeeze. Sees her clench her eyes shut and hears a soft sniffle escape the girl.

Alfred would know what do to. What to say, to make this right. He’s always been so good, at connecting with Colette. At putting her at ease, at making her smile even when minutes before she’d been crying her eyes out. Aurora’s always found it difficult, to find the right words, to do what a mother would do. She’s still not very good at this. She likes to think Colette understands why, hopes that their relationship is no longer in need of her doing everything right, all the time. But she gets that there are moments when she has to do it, when what she has managed to built, with Colette, requires for Aurora to do the right thing, or any progress they’ve made will be thrown back years.

But then again, Colette is here. At twenty years of age, she’s come home for Hanukah. Even when she’s going to school half the world away, she’s still come back to Canada to spend time with Aurora and Alfred and Mathéo.

When Colette told her she wanted to study in France, Aurora had understood. She hadn’t liked it, had even thought it might be a bad idea, but ultimately, she’d let her go. Had figured that the only way for Colette to figure out where she was going and who she was going to be would be for her to go back to where she’d come from. She’d been eighteen and Aurora had considered her old enough to make her own decisions, her own choices.

Then why is it she suddenly doubts that, two years later, when Colette sits there, looking so much younger and more vulnerable than she has in years?

“It doesn’t change anything,” Aurora hears herself say as she watches the younger woman. Sees Colette’s shoulders tense as she looks at her, hope shimmering in her dark eyes. Aurora blinks, and slowly realizes that she means what she just said.

“I still love you,” she tells her. “You’re still, you,” she adds with a slight shrug. Colette lets out a self-depreciating laugh at that. Reaches up to wipe at the tears in the corners of her eyes before she shakes her head.

“I have no idea who I am,” she says, and her brows twitch. Colette frowns, and lets out a sigh. Looks away as her jaw works. “I, think I want to come back,” she finally says, and Aurora’s eyebrows nearly meet her hairline.

Out of everything she’d thought Colette would say when she’d told her earlier that they needed to talk, that hadn’t been among them. Then again, neither had the first confession. Maybe Aurora doesn’t know the other woman as well as she’d thought she did.

“Are you sure?” she asks, carefully. Watches as Colette takes a slow breath and then gives a shake of her head.

“No,” she admits. Leans forward to hide her face in her hands for a moment. “Everything is so, confusing, right now,” she murmurs, her voice muffled by her hands. Aurora reaches out and gently takes them, pulling them away. Makes Colette look at her.

“You can come back,” she tells her. “You’re always welcome here, you’ll always have a place with us. I just, don’t want you to make this decision, and then regret it in five years,” she adds.

Colette searches her face, something flickering over her features that Aurora can’t quite place.

“If I don’t get away from her, I will do something,” she whispers, shame burning across her face. “Something I know I will regret.”

* * *

The uniform takes some getting used to. As does the general idea of someone as intelligent as Colette reducing herself to what in Aurora’s mind amounts to a glorified waitress.

She’d been so happy, when Colette had decided to go into journalism. Aurora would be the first person to tell anyone that the French woman has a brilliant mind. She can be amazing with words, is quick on the uptake, and knows not just how to ask questions, but also which ones to ask, and how to read between the lines. She has a certain intuition, a way of connecting with people, that reminds Aurora of Tom sometimes. The way the American could figure out what to say, how to sell anything to just about anyone, it had been uncanny. If Colette sets her mind to it, she can do the same thing. She would have made an amazing agent, Aurora thinks at times.

And then Colette just up and quits her job. Stops writing for the paper, seemingly over night. Aurora knew she wasn’t completely happy with the way things were going, but she figured it had been a case of not feeling appreciated as much as she might have needed to. She’d tried to raise her in a way that made Colette aware of her skills, tried to teach her what her value was, without the need to have someone else praise her all the time. Yet here they are, almost a year after Colette had resigned from the paper, and has decided to put on a sky blue uniform and work for an airline. An American airline, of all things.

She’s had a restless energy to her for years. Aurora has seen it develop and tried to counter it as best as she could. Tried to make sure Colette knew she had a stable home with Alfred, the boy and her. That, despite neither one of them ever calling each other anything other than their names, Aurora considers Colette a sister to her own son. Mathéo has always referred to her as his sister, as well. She’d hoped it would be enough, because Aurora hadn’t known what else to do. Aside from not trying to tie her down and keep her in place when the brunette got too antsy. There was an episode, in her senior year, when Colette simply took off. For five days, Aurora hadn’t had any idea where the teenager was. In the middle of the school year, she’d simply, vanished. And then came back, just as unexpected, just as sudden. Had shown up in the middle of the night on their doorstep, tears in her eyes, begging for forgiveness. And Aurora had wrapped her arms around her and hugged her, and then Alfred had done the same. It had made her grateful, to have him then, especially. Aurora knows other people, other parents, they would have yelled. Would have gotten angry, would have let their confusion lead them to raised voices and angry shouting and accusations. But Alfred, he’d just enveloped Colette into his arms and told her to never scare them like this again. He had kept his voice soft and Aurora thinks that may have actually been why Colette had started to cry even harder, then.

Maybe Colette thinks working as a stewardess, this drive she has, this urge to run away, it will be satisfied. It’s probably not just that she is travelling all over the world, but also the fact that she moves, from Montreal to New York.

For Hanukah, Colette gives her a simple envelope. Aurora searches her face, surprised, before she goes to open it. And finds a plane ticket inside. Destination: Tel Aviv.

She hasn’t had the energy to go to Israel. Something has been holding her back. She’s watched seeing it being build from afar, and Aurora isn’t entirely sure she likes what she has been seeing. It seems like the perfect idea, but at the same time, there’s a bitter taste to it, as well. The feeling that they’re still being branded, as ‘other’. That they have to have their own country, because they cannot integrate into other societies. She knows that it is more along the lines of isolating themselves, of wanting to be amongst themselves, because everyone else has been hurting them so much it seems like they cannot be trusted any longer. But still, sometimes, the concept makes her think of her people just turning into sitting ducks, and it makes her antsy and restless. Hitler tried to murder them all, and suddenly, they think it’s a good idea to gather in one place, where it will only take a few well-aimed rockets to level everything to the ground. On her darkest days, it sounds like the worst idea anyone has ever had, to Aurora.

But perhaps she needs to do this. Needs to go to Israel, needs to see it. Needs to see the rugged beauty of this fantastic land.

“I’m working that flight,” Colette tells her, her voice soft. “I haven’t been, not yet. But I think I, want to. Need to, really. But I know I can’t do this, alone,” she adds, searching Aurora’s eyes. “If you don’t want to go, it’s fine. I’ll work the flight and go right back, or maybe I’ll switch flights. But, if you do, want to go, I have some vacation time left. We could do it, together. Visit Israel, see what it is like.”

Aurora swallows thickly and reaches out. Wraps her arms around Colette to hug her tightly.

“I think I’d like that,” she whispers, feeling the brunette return the hug.

* * *

She knows Colette never takes flights to Germany. She always bows out, or switches her schedule with someone else from another crew. As far as Aurora knows, the airline hasn’t asked about it, or noticed the pattern just yet. Which seems strange to her, because it is so obvious to Aurora, when they are in Israel. Just how much damage has been done to Colette during the occupation. Just how broken the two of them really are, even with fifteen years of slowly healing from the wounds no one has ever been able to see.

She’d considered taking Mathéo along, but ultimately decided with Alfred that it would be better if he didn’t come with them on this trip. Depending on how it goes, they can go another time. Alfred, their son, and Aurora, together. Perhaps with Colette, too, if she wants to. If she feels up for it.

It’s strange, to hear Hebrew virtually everywhere. To find it written on all the signs that she sees. The only places Aurora speaks Hebrew are at Temple, and at home, during prayers. She thinks it’s the same for Colette. When she first started at the airline, she’d asked her if Aurora thought she should put Hebrew on her list of languages she speaks. Aurora had been taken aback somewhat, but then realized that it hadn’t been a case of Colette wanting to hide she’s Jewish. The airline already knew that. She was just wondering, if would make people put things together. If they read through her file, saw her spoken languages, and then found German and Hebrew both on it. In the end, Colette had decided against putting it on there. Deciding that it’s a skill she wants to protect, not use for making money. And Aurora respects that.

They stay for almost two full weeks. It’s no time at all, and yet, Aurora thinks she couldn’t be in the country for any longer. It’s heartwrenching and painful. The contrast, between this seeming utopia, a place she dreamed of, once, somewhere her people would be save and free to live their lives without punishments for being Jewish, and the horrors Colette and her had to endure. The horrors so many of Israel’s citizens had to go through, have managed to survive.

At the end of their flight back to New York, one of Colette’s colleagues is waiting at the airport. For a moment, Aurora thinks the other woman is merely there because she is working, but then she realizes that she’s not only not wearing her uniform, but she’s also missing any luggage. And Aurora watches as the American steps close to Colette and rubs a hand down her back, searching her face for a moment before her own softens and then the redhead pulls Colette into a hug. Holds her tightly and cradles her head, and Aurora realizes with a start that Colette is crying. She reaches out herself and touches Colette’s shoulder. The brunette shudders and reaches out blindly and Aurora takes her hand, holding on, ignoring the vice-like grip Colette has on her as she slowly begins to calm down.

The redhead introduces herself again. Aurora is exhausted, it was a long flight, and she is emotionally drained. But she still remembers Kate from their flight into Israel. Remembers watching, mesmerized, how Colette and the redhead seemed to be able to communicate without words. She’s heard Kate’s name before that day, like everyone else’s on the crew. But that flight made her realize that actually, Kate’s name has been cropping up the most. Aside from Bridget, but then again, Colette shared an apartment with the one other European on their crew for a while, before getting her own place.

Kate came to pick them up, make sure they get to Colette’s place alright. Borrowed a car, and Aurora is incredibly thankful that they won’t have to use a cab. She is about ready to collapse and sleep for an entire week. The fact that she hasn’t even seen Colette’s place before this doesn’t matter. All she wants is a vaguely horizontal surface to rest on.

Colette probably thinks she is still in the bathroom. And Aurora did say she was going to run herself a bath, but then she’d changed her mind. She is simply too tired, she needs to rest, before she gets into a bathtub filled with water. So Aurora just washes up quickly and changes into some more comfortable clothes before she steps from the bathroom again and goes in search of Colette. To thank her, for letting her stay for a night, before she takes on the remainder of the trip back across the border to Canada, before Aurora returns home.

She walks into the living room and then quickly backs out of it again, as quietly as possible. Because she is pretty sure that she wasn’t supposed to see that. Wasn’t supposed to be privy to the scene between Colette and her friend.

It’s innocent enough. They’re just standing there, bodies not quite touching. Colette’s hands are on Kate’s waist, and the redhead had hers resting on Colette’s lower arms. They’ve both closed their eyes, and leaned in, so their foreheads are touching. It’s nowhere near as scandalous as when Aurora walked in on Colette being kissed by one of her fellow classmates during the brunette’s junior year. But it is so much more intimate that the necking between teenagers. Aurora laughed off that moment, and later, Colette was able to laugh about it with her. But the blonde doubts that she will be able to do the same this time. Has the distinct feeling that if she tells her that she saw them together, Colette will turn an impressive shade of red and apologize and promise to do better. Which Aurora suddenly realizes she doesn’t want her to.

It’s been six years, since Colette told her about the fellow student she’d been drawn to. Another woman she had developed an intense crush on and hadn’t known what to do with her feelings. Six years in which Aurora had plenty of time to get used to the idea of Colette having those kinds of feelings for other women. It never changed anything about Aurora’s feelings, she still loves Colette, loves her as if she were her own child. Thinks of her as such, even, despite her having grown into an adult. She’d been worried, about when Colette would tell her they had to talk, to reveal that she’s been seeing someone. But the thing is, Aurora barely knows this Kate person. Has barely spoken to her, knows almost nothing about her, aside from the stories Colette told them. Yet here she is, feeling utterly relieved, and a strange sort of happy, for Colette. Because just from that little moment, it seems like these two are exactly where they want to be, and where they belong.

* * *

Her son used to worship the ground Colette stood on. When he was younger, Mathéo used to follow her around, used to beg for her attention. It made Aurora worry, sometimes, that she was encouraging a relationship that was not healthy. And she’s relieved, now, to see that it is slowly evolving into something much healthier.

Mathéo still loves Colette, loves her dearly and deeply and with a fierceness that scares Aurora at times. But she has seen the cracks in his adoration. The boy won’t blindly defend her any longer, and no longer acts like Colette can do no wrong, like she has hung the moon and to criticize her is blasphemy.

Yet Aurora almost wishes that he wasn’t growing up, that he could still retain this sort of blind adoration for the woman that he thinks of as his sister. She thinks it would be easier, for both of them. For Colette to tell him the secret that is slowly eating away at her, and for him to hear it and not care about it at all.

It’s not like Colette tells her. She doesn’t, at least not for months. Aurora isn’t stupid, however, and she thinks Colette knows she suspects what is really going on, between her and that redheaded American woman. Yet Colette bides her time, keeps quiet, keeps it a secret, until one evening during a surprise visit, when she asks Aurora if she has five minutes, she’d like to talk to her?

Aurora has come to dread those surprise visits. She’s been treated to only a few, but they never ended with good news. Once, Colette told her about having developed feelings for another woman. The next time, she’d informed her that she quit her job as a journalist. At the surprise visit after that, she’d shown up in a sky blue uniform of a flight attendant. That Aurora can guess what this conversation will be about, it’s not really much of a relief.

“I’m, seeing, someone,” Colette tells her when they’re alone in the study. Aurora slowly sinks down into an office chair and tilts her head slightly, waiting for more. The brunette pauses, teeth flashing as she worries at her bottom lip. Aurora watches her wring her hands and then reach up to wipe across her brows before she slowly sits down.

“I, had an affair,” the younger woman confesses. “It went on for a while, and then I found out he was married, and...” she trails off. Aurora finds herself recoiling slightly. This is the first she hears of it, she never would have suspected something like this going on.

“When was that?” she asks, her brows twitching as she tries to figure out if that was before, or after Israel. Colette frowns and gives a slight shake of her head.

“A few months ago,” she tells Aurora. “It doesn’t really matter,” she adds, hesitating briefly. “When it was over, I realized... it wasn’t real.”

“Well, if he was married-”

“I don’t mean that,” Colette interrupts Aurora’s reply. “I mean... I was wondering how I hadn’t noticed, before actually running into his wife. And it hit me that I actually hadn’t been paying attention. It didn’t matter who I was sleeping with, only that it was a man. The only reason I did it, was to get away from a truth I wasn’t ready to admit to...” she trails off with a deep sigh. “The woman you met, the one on my crew. American, redhead, her name is, is Kate...”

Aurora swallows and nods. Colette opens her mouth again, her lips moving, but Aurora watches as she doesn’t make a sound. The brunette closes her eyes and looks away. Reaches up to press a hand over her mouth tightly, and Aurora feels herself deflating slightly. Leans forward and reaches out to take Colette’s other hand. To hold it tightly and give it a squeeze.

“She’s wonderful,” she tells her.

Colette’s head whips around and she stares at her in surprise, dark eyes wide and scared. Aurora takes a slow breath and smiles at her, squeezing the younger woman’s hand again.

“It’s okay,” she mutters. “It’s okay,” Aurora repeats as the tears well up in Colette’s eyes and her shoulders begin to shake with barely suppressed sobs. Aurora pulls her chair closer and wraps her arms around Colette, hugging her tightly. Leans in to press a kiss to her temple as she lets her cry, from relief. At least Aurora hopes it is relief Colette feels so overwhelmed by.

* * *

Aurora remembers a terrified German soldier, who pressed the barrel of his gun to her forehead. She remembers Felix, his shaking hands, and his horrifying tale of what another person was doing to those that were the same as him.

She cannot help but think of that night, in a brothel in France, when Colette invites Kate for dinner for the first time. Aurora wants so badly to believe that the world is a better place now, that what Felix was facing will not ever happen again. But she’s not a recluse, she lives in this world the same as Colette does, and she is very aware of what is going on. There may no longer be open hunts on homosexuals, but that does not mean that the people hating them have stopped looking for ways to hurt them.

Sometimes, she catches herself wishing that it weren’t so. That Colette would be going out with another man. Not because it disgusts her, or anything of the sort. It’s just, she cares about Colette, cares for her so much. She’s been through enough, and this, this isn’t going to make her life any easier.

Alfred thought it would be better, if Mathéo wasn’t around, for that first dinner. Aurora knows the boy is still struggling, is still trying to understand. Knows that it pains Colette immensely, to see that the seemingly easy acceptance and understanding she receives from Alfred and her isn’t shared by the boy.

Kate brings a bottle of wine, and Aurora looks at her for a moment, and then she bursts into laughter. Apologizes, immediately, at the horrified look of the other woman and then pulls her into a careful hug. The American is tense and stiff and Aurora lets her go again, but keeps her hands on Kate’s upper arms for a moment longer to give them a gentle squeeze.

“I’m not laughing at you,” she tells her. “It’s just... We’ve met, before, and the way you looked now... Let’s say it’s a far cry from the confident stewardess I was first introduced to.”

Kate swallows and forces a smile then and Aurora shakes her head briefly before she steps away and hands the bottle to Alfred, so he can open it.

She doesn’t miss how neither Colette, nor Kate reach for each other. How they don’t touch when they think either Alfred or her are looking. How they don’t kiss, or hold hands. It’s such a stark contrast, compared to the time Colette brought a boy, a young man, home, that Aurora’s heart aches. The one thing she always wanted was for Colette to feel save at home. The way her and Kate are acting, Aurora feels like she has failed accomplishing that.

Alfred tries to engage the redhead in conversation during dinner. Aurora is a little impressed, by how he manages to make her talk, even though she’s still radiating tension. They get reminded that Kate has a younger sister, Laura, who also works for the same airline Colette and her are employed by. She doesn’t mention her family beyond that, and Aurora notices how Colette tenses briefly, when Alfred mentions Aurora’s mother. There’s something there, the dark look on Kate’s face confirms, something having to do with the redhead’s mother, but Aurora feels like it’s not the time to push for details. Not tonight, and if the reaction her husband’s small comment received is anything to go by, Aurora thinks it might be a long time, until they find out what is going on there.

She finds she likes Kate, though, as the evening progresses and the American loses some of her tension. Once she picks up her banter with Colette, Aurora is reminded of the woman she met months and months ago. Sees what she saw that first time she saw Colette and the other woman together: two people who understand each other on a fundamental level. Something that reminds her of what she has, with Alfred. The way they can read each other, communicate with each other without needing a lot of words, sometimes not any at rt all, Aurora sees that in the interactions between the two younger women, too.

Part of her wants Colette to stay, after dinner. So that she can talk to her about all of this. Get everything about this relationship out of her. But the thing is, they never used to do that, before. Aurora did ask, when she knew Colette was seeing someone. But the two of them never had this sort of relationship where they’d curl up with a bowl of ice cream and discuss their dating life. Maybe because Aurora doesn’t have one, she’s married, she’s found her soulmate, and talking about her relationship with Alfred hadn’t seemed like a good idea, when Colette had been younger. Somehow, Aurora’s never really managed to be lighthearted about any relationship Colette has had. Even when she was a teenager, and was crushing on boys at school, and even going on a few dates, there had been part of Aurora who may have taken it too seriously. Perhaps because she knows the way Colette can be. How, fragile, her heart is, how easily old wounds can be reopened, sometimes ones that have remained hidden for years.

She doesn’t ask Colette to stay behind, also because she thinks it might be giving Kate the wrong idea. When it’s close to ten in the evening, the two women start bidding their farewell, and Aurora tilts her head as she stands opposite Kate. Reaches out and takes her hands for a moment before enveloping her into a hug.

“It was wonderful, getting to know you,” she tells her as she lets her go again. Kate blinks and looks down, and Aurora swallows hard at the tears she’s caught a glimpse of in the other woman’s eyes. “Alfred and I would be very happy to see you again.”

Kate nods mutely and takes a step back. Turns to grab her jacket off the coat hanger with one hand, the other reaching up to wipe at the corner of her eyes. Aurora swallows and hesitates before she decides to leave her be, to allow her to gather her wits. Instead, she turns to Colette and hugs the younger woman tightly.

“I love you,” she tells her. “It was a lovely evening. You two can stop by anytime.”

Colette nods mutely and Aurora feels her kiss her cheek briefly before she lets go and steps back.

“I’ll call, about the flight?" she asks and Alfred nods eagerly.

“Please do,” he replies. “If you can’t get a discount-”

“I’m sure there’ll be something that can be worked out,” Colette interrupts him with a slight shake of her head. Alfred opens his mouth again, and Aurora decides to wrap her arm around his waist, giving him a light jostle to tell him to quit it.

As the door closes behind the younger pair, Alfred lets out a deep breath and Aurora leans close, resting her head against him for a moment.

“She’s, something,” Alfred remarks, and Aurora finds herself agreeing.

“And someone,” she adds. “Colette’s someone, apparently.”

She feels Alfred shift, feels his eyes on her. Aurora turns her head and gives him a questioning look.

“Are you okay?” he asks her and the blonde lets out a soft sigh.

“I like her,” she tells him. "I do. It’s just... I feel like, Colette, she’s been through enough. She deserves to be happy, and this... It won’t make her life any easier.”

“No,” Alfred agrees. “It won’t.”

“But?” Aurora prompts, sensing his hesitation.

“I just think,” he furrows his brows, “maybe bearing all of this, is easier, when she’s with her.”

Aurora frowns, leaning back slightly.

“Huh?” she mutters, searching his face. Alfred lets out a soft sigh and gives a slight shake of his head.

“You know, what happened, during the war... Being with you, it make all that a little less... horrible. The two of us, that was so, intense, it muted everything else by comparison. And there were moments when I thought I was going to die, and I kept thinking it was okay, because, for the briefest of moments I’d gotten an idea what happiness was like. What it felt like, when I was with you.”

“You think it’s like that, for Colette?” Aurora asks, surprised. Alfred slowly shakes his head.

“I don’t know,” he allows. “But I think that all of us, we have wounds that can’t be healed. Scars that still hurt, even now, almost two decades later. And maybe, she helps her soothe the ache, at least a little.”

Aurora swallows and turns, to be able to wrap her arms around him. Hugs Alfred close and hides her face against his neck, a shuddering breath escaping her as he returns the embrace.

* * *

The silence in the house is deafening. Colette stands, her head inclined slightly, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Aurora frowns and opens her mouth, but then Mathéo moves and storms from the room. Silence, again, and the loud bang of his door slamming shut.

Colette deflates then, her eyes closing.

“What happened?” Aurora asks, uncertain whether she should be going after her son. Between the two of them, she’s not sure which one of her children needs her more, right now. Mathéo is younger, of course, and she is his mother, whereas Colette has only been her ward and is an adult now. But if anything, it’s the brunette woman who seems more in need of someone else, seems to be in dire need of a hug and kind words.

It’s only day six. Mathéo was supposed to be in New York for over two weeks. Sixteen days, actually, ten of which he’d spend at Colette’s place, before Aurora and Alfred came down as well and they’d get a hotel room and explore the vast city together while Colette returned to her job.

“He...” Colette starts and gives a sharp shake of her head. “We, forgot, to lock the door,” she says after a pause, a shuddering breath leaving her as she goes to cover her face. “I am so, so sorry," she apologizes to Aurora when she finally lowers her hands again. There are tears brimming in her dark eyes. “It’s just, I didn’t think... He was supposed to be out,” she rambles. “Laura took him, to a photography class. I thought he wouldn’t be back for another hour, and besides, it’s my apartment. We’ve never had to hide, at our places. If I’d known he’d come back, I never would have- I’m so sorry,” she apologizes again.

Aurora takes a slow breath and swallows. Reaches out to take Colette’s hand and give it a gentle squeeze.

“What did he do?” she asks, and attempts to keep her voice neutral. Colette shudders and pulls her hand back. Looks away, her teeth flashing as she worries at her lower lip.

"Nothing,” she finally replies, and Aurora knows, knows that she’s lying. “But he, didn’t want to stay, any more. I tried to talk to him, to explain, but... He wasn’t listening. Wasn’t ready to hear anything, from me at least,” she shakes her head.

Aurora inhales through her nose, anger coiling in the pit of her stomach. Not at Colette, surprisingly. She’s seen her, with Kate. With her... what is the right term? Girlfriend? Lover? Partner? Whatever word, she’s seen the two women, together, in the company of others. Even around Aurora and Alfred, the two of them are very careful. They never kiss, they barely touch. Aurora doesn’t doubt that when Mathéo was with her, Colette was very careful, about the kind of interactions she had with the redheaded American woman.

No, she’s angry at her son’s reaction. She’s tried to talk to him, about this. About what Colette feels, for other women. Tried to explain that there isn’t anything wrong with it, tried to emphasize that it changes absolutely nothing about how Alfred and her feel about Colette, how she is still part of their family, and that he is to treat Kate with respect, as well. And she’s been so optimistic, because for the last few months, Mathéo’d been, for a lack of better word, defrosting. Gone back to his banter, with Colette. And when he’d asked, if he could maybe visit her, for a couple of days, both Alfred and her had thought it would be a good thing. Give the two, give Mathéo and Colette time to reconnect, without them around. Let him see her place and where she lives, give the boy an opportunity to see a different side of the woman that he used to think of as his sister.

“How much did he...” Aurora starts, trailing off as she wonders what her son walked in on, exactly. If perhaps it had been the extent of it that had been too much. It would been a double shock. For one, Aurora’s pretty sure he doesn’t think of Colette as a woman. Someone who has sexual desires and goes about fulfilling them. Adding to that the fact that the person Colette is currently seeing is another woman, it makes Mathéo’s reaction a bit more understandable. Kind of like walking in on your parents.

Colette’s dark eyes widen, and a blush heats up her cheeks, expands, to her hairline and neck.

“We were still dressed,” she answers, an edge to her voice. Aurora nods, holding up her hands slightly.

“I’m just asking so I know what I have to, go up against,” she tells her. The younger woman shifts, her eyes flickering to Aurora, searching her face briefly.

“We were just kissing,” she tells her, her voice a little softer. “It wasn’t exactly chaste pecks on our cheeks, though," she admits. “More like...”

“Charles Fisher?” Aurora offers and Colette ducks her head.

“That was tame, by comparison,” she mutters, and Aurora feels her eyebrows rise in surprise. She still remembers that day she found sixteen-year old Colette getting kissed by a classmate in their living room. For their age, it hadn’t been ‘tame’, certainly not, since Aurora is pretty sure there had been tongue involved. But they’d been necking teenagers in the girl’s home. Not two consenting adults in their own apartment, thinking they had the place to themselves.

Aurora gives a slight shake of her head, to banish those thoughts.

“He hasn’t spoken to me since we got in the car,” Colette mutters.

“You drove here?” Aurora asks, dumbfounded. The younger woman gives a slight shrug.

“There weren’t any flights today, and he really, really didn’t want to stay with me,” she tells her. “To be honest, I thought we would talk, on the way here. That I’d be able to explain. That it would lose some of its, horror... I was wrong,” she lets out a self-depreciating chuckle. “I think he hates me.”

“Oh, Colette,” Aurora breathes and walks over to wrap the brunette into her arms. Feels Colette melt against her as she dissolves into tears, heart-wrenching sobs tearing at Aurora’s heart.

* * *

At times, Aurora wonders, if Alfred and her, if they made big mistakes, raising Colette, raising their son.

Not the small things. Of course, Aurora is well aware of having done some thing wrong. There is stuff that, if she had the chance to go back, she’d do different, the second time around. The knowledge that comes with hindsight. No, what she catches herself thinking, sometimes, is if Alfred and her, if their combined issues, the damage they’ve both sustained, during the war, if it messed up their son. Messed up Colette even more than she’d already been.

Neither one of them had been easy. Starting off with a traumatized war orphan as their first attempt at child rearing probably hadn’t been the best thing to begin with. And back then, there’d been little advice to go around. Aurora had still been struggling, struggling a lot, barely able to face her own demons, never mind be there for Colette and help her face hers.

Mathéo had been different. Easier, in a way, but at the same time not. He’d been so helpless, so small and fragile in the beginning, that Aurora had barely been able to stand it. In that way, Colette had been easier. At least with her, people hadn’t expected Aurora to be head-over-heels for the girl from the first meeting. She’d had time, to develop feeling, something, for her. With the baby, people had expected her to love him instantly, to be overwhelmed by this idea of motherly love, and Aurora had found herself severely lacking in that part, at least for the first few weeks. It had taken time, just like with Colette. Time where she had to allow herself to care for the baby, care for him in a way that she wouldn’t be able to take back. She’d had to wrestle her love for him from the pits of her soul, where she’d locked it away in order to prevent herself from hanging her heart on more people who were bound to leave her, in the end.

In that sense, she’s never had to lie, to Colette, that the way she loves Mathéo is the same way she loves her. She’s had to go through a very similar process of slowly learning to love them in time with either child.

If there’s one thing she’s wanted her son to learn, it was to respect and love others. No matter their nationality, their religion, their gender or the color of their skin. Or who they fall in love with.

She’s taken great care, to hide how badly the war damaged her, from Mathéo. Part of her is very glad that there are things about the past that her son will never be able to understand, stuff he won’t be able to comprehend. The horrendous choices they’d been forced to make, every single day. What it feels like, to lose people left and right, and to have to go on, because if you pause to think about it, this pain that’s burning inside of you, it’ll consume you.

But Aurora thinks it may be time, to show him a little of the pain. To allow him a glimpse of her scars she keeps carefully hidden most of the time. So far, she’s only allowed Alfred to see them. And Colette, too, in an attempt to comfort her years and years ago, when she’d been hurting so badly and thought that no one could ever understand her pain.

It’s difficult, to speak of what happened, in Europe. In France, and Poland, and Germany, and Belgium. Not just because a lot of it is classified. Aurora has tried for a long time, to forget. To keep the memories buried beneath mountains of rubble, and now she has to dig them out again, her fingers getting bloodied with scrapes as she wrestles the moments she thinks she might be able to share with her son free.

She tells him of Harry, first. Of the sweet young man he’d been, when she’d first met him. Of his dreams and aspirations. Of his fascination with everything that had anything to do with mechanics and engineering.

And Tom. Bright, lovely Tom, who could make people laugh so easily, and make them feel relaxed and welcome. Smart Tom, who knew exactly what to say to make others listen.

And Leo. And Josie. And Jacob.

And René. Aurora looks at her son, and sees his eyes widen in surprise when she tells him of the journalist in Paris. The wonderful young man she loved so dearly, all those years ago. A lifetime, between then and now, between who she’d been and who she’s become. René, who burned so brightly against the darkness around them. Who could write the most wonderful poetry she’d ever read. Who had a way with words that made Aurora’s head spin. Who showed her what it meant, to love someone so deeply you’d do anything for them.

She doesn’t tell Mathéo how he died. Only says that he was killed, during the occupation. Tells him that she saw it happen, and had to turn away from him, to save herself. Another choice, so heartwrenching, so impossible to comprehend for someone who has only known peace all his life.

She tells Mathéo of Colette’s parents, too. Of Oscar and Rachelle, of them having been in the Resistance. Tries to make him understand, how much she’d hurt, when her friends died, and asks him to imagine what losing them must have been like, for Colette.

She’s never mentioned that these wounds that sometimes make her seem distant are ones she has in common with Colette, not to Mathéo. At times, Aurora thinks that Colette has managed to heal better than herself, and then, just days later, something makes her wonder if that is only wishful thinking on Aurora’s part.

It’s something she hints at, now. Thinks that maybe he is old enough to begin understanding it. How much Colette suffered, during the Occupation. How much the war has stolen from her, for years and years.

And then she tells him, how difficult love can be, for them. How painful it is, sometimes, to open their hearts to someone else. Because they have suffered so much, have sustained so much damaged and barely managed to survive it. Opening themselves up again, for more heartbreak, it’s contrary to their instincts. But sometimes, people managed to blow past their defenses. Like Alfred blew past hers. So effortlessly that Aurora had been forced to scramble to put them back up, and even when she’d tried so hard, she hadn’t been able to lock him out again.

Mathéo remains silent. Pensive. Lets her talk and stares off into the middle distance, his brows knit. Aurora lets him. Doesn’t push him to speak, doesn’t make him talk.

A few days after she told their son that loving his father sometimes hurts more than she can explain, Mathéo comes to find her. Sits down next to Aurora on the couch and pulls up his feet.

“You think that that, woman,” he starts, his brows furrowing as he stares at a small hole in his sock, “she makes Colette feel like you do? With Papa?”

Aurora swallows and sets her book to the side.

“Maybe,” she replies and turns slightly, to somewhat face him. “I don’t know, if love feels the same, for other people," she tells him. “But I don’t doubt that Colette loves her. Loves her very, very much.”

“Why does it have to be a woman?” Mathéo asks, and Aurora almost rolls her eyes at him. He sounds like a petulant child just then, and she’s never had much patience for him throwing tantrums, even when he’d been little.

“To be honest,” Aurora begins, her brows twitching briefly, “I don’t think it’s our place to ask.”

Her son looks at her, then, confused. Opens his mouth, but then hesitates, and closes it again.

“It’s, weird,” he mutters, after a few moments. Aurora tilts her head slightly and watches him.

“Do you want to talk, about what happened? When you were in New York?” she asks carefully.

Her son draws a slow breath and swallows.

“It wasn’t...” he starts and breaks off, before continuing. “She was around like, twice. I didn’t know she’d be at the apartment when I came back.”

“Kate, you mean,” Aurora says, making a point of saying the American’s name. Mathéo swallows thickly, before he nods.

“They were, kissing,” he tells her, confirming what Colette told her, as well. “And hugging. Pretty tightly. It was just, really, strange,” he shrugs, brows twitching. “It felt like something I wasn’t supposed to see. I’ve never seen you and Papa like that,” he adds and blushes furiously. Aurora feels heat creep up her neck and hopes she’s not blushing.

“That doesn’t mean we don’t do that,” she tells him. Mathéo’s head whips around and he stares at her, absolutely mortified, and Aurora can’t stop herself, she lets out a soft laugh.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes quickly. Alfred and her have never made a display of themselves, Aurora doesn’t think. They’ve kissed in front of Colette and Mathéo, countless of times, but it’s always been quick and somewhat chaste.

“There’s a time, for these things, and a place. For kisses like that, for sex,” she explains and ignores how her son flinches at the word. “But that has never been in front of you,” she adds. “It’s not that we have been hiding it because it’s something shameful,” she goes on, wanting Mathéo to understand what she means, where she is coming from. “But it’s something private. Something between two people who care about each other deeply. It’s intimate and deeply personal, and it should be treated with respect.”

“Between them, too?”

Aurora swallows and nods.

“Yes,” she tells him. “At least that is what I believe,” she adds after a moment. “I think what happens between Colette and Kate, or any other two women, or men, for that matter, deserves as much respect as what happens between husband and wife.”

“They’re not married,” Mathéo argues, the petulance creeping back into his voice.

“And how many men and women sleep with each other when they’re not married?” Aurora asks him pointedly. She takes a breath and lets out a sigh.

“Look,” she starts and touches his hand briefly. “I know it’s confusing. It’s hard to understand, why some people feel differently than others. But ultimately, that’s nothing you can change.”

She watches her son swallow and stare off into space, his lips pursed slightly. And Aurora wishes she knew what else to say, what to do, to make this easier. For him, and Colette.

* * *

Alfred’s arm wraps around her from behind and settles on Aurora’s waist. She shifts and leans closer, briefly resting her head on his shoulder.

“Are you okay?” he asks her, his voice gentle. She sighs and closes her eyes for a moment, searching.

“I think so,” Aurora replies and opens her eyes again as she straightens a little. Watches as Kate raises an eyebrow before she reaches out to pick a card from the stack Mathéo is holding out to her.

It’s the fourth time today that he’s trying this “magic trick” on her. The previous three, it failed, rather spectacularly. He’s also tried to talk Colette into it, yet again, and Aurora knows that the only reason the trick “worked” with her is because the brunette grew tired and wanted him to feel better about his attempts.

Sometimes, she wants to curse Alfred, for showing him this stuff in the first place, but then again, she likes it when Alfred does that sleight-of-hand stuff. Not because it’s entertaining and cute, but because it makes her work hard, to figure out how he does it. It awakens past instincts as she tries to see the moment where the coin disappears, or where the hidden compartment is. It’s one of their games, and Aurora enjoys them. She’d just figured that their son wouldn’t be interested in replicating those tricks. Or maybe she’d hoped he wouldn’t be as hopeless at them.

“Be glad he’s no longer pulling coins from your ear,” Colette remarks when the American lets out a long-suffering sigh as Mathéo shuffles the cards again.

“He knows better,” Kate quips, and Aurora tenses, for a second, before she sees the brilliant smile, and watches as her son blushes. He’d snuck up on the redhead the previous evening, and her reaction had been to twist his arm. An instinct Aurora understands perfectly, especially given where they girls had been on layover before coming here, but it had shocked Mathéo and drawn a pained yelp from him.

Colette squeezes her shoulder and sits down next to Kate on the couch, taking her hand, and there’s a flutter of, something, in Aurora’s chest. The same one she felt, when she’d realized that Kate is trying to learn Hebrew. She doesn’t think Colette knows, about that. But Aurora’s seen the expression of concentration on the redhead’s face at Temple. Has seen the brief flickers of recognition when she’d caught a familiar word or phrase.

She’s not sure if it’s just Hebrew, or if Kate is actually looking to convert. Not that it would change anything, the two of them would still not be able to get married. But it’s the thought behind it that makes Aurora feel, strange. A weird mixture of warmth and pride and relief, at the knowledge that Colette’s partner is treating this part of her life with respect. That she doesn’t dismiss it, doesn’t ignore it. They have French and English to talk to each other with, learning Hebrew, it’s an extra step. The extra mile many wouldn’t be willing to go.

“Is this your card?”

She’s good, Aurora is willing to admit that. There’s the briefest flicker of confusion and slight disappointment before Kate breaks into a bright smile and nods.

“Yes,” she lies and Mathéo breaks into laughter.

“You saw that, right?” Alfred murmurs and Aurora hums quietly.

“Yes, I did,” she confirms and steps from his half-embrace to join the others.

“Maman, I did it!” her son exclaims excitedly and Aurora touches his cheek briefly before kissing it. She turns, and catches Kate’s eye. The redhead does look a bit guilty, Aurora thinks.

“Thanks,” she mouthes at her and winks, before picking up the stack of cards. “I think we’ve had enough of this, for today,” she tells her son and holds the cards out to him. Mathéo nods and takes them, before disappearing from the room to put them away. Six more weeks, she’ll have him, before he leaves for college. Aurora tries not to think about it too much. How quiet the house will be, when it’s just her and Alfred again.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Kate mutters and stands, leaving Colette to let go of her hand and look after her retreating form with the expression of a kicked puppy. She returns at the same time as Mathéo, holding a record, wrapped in butcher’s paper.

“Colette told me you like jazz,” she offers with a shrug as she holds it out to Alfred, who takes the gift, slightly bewildered.

“Thank you, but-”

“Happy anniversary,” the redhead adds and Aurora blinks in stunned surprise. She’s pretty sure neither Alfred, nor her have mentioned their wedding anniversary to the other woman. Looking at Colette, she finds the brunette wearing an equally surprised expression. When Kate sees it, she rolls her eyes.

“Like that was hard to figure out,” she shrugs and returns to her previous seat next to the other woman. Colette swallows and leans in, murmuring something Aurora doesn’t quiet catch.

“Wanna open it?” Alfred’s voice pulls her from her thoughts. Aurora blinks and shifts, accepting the record. She slips her nail under the flap and lifts, tearing away the tape. And feels her breath catch in her throat.

“Oh,” she breathes as she pulls the paper aside, her heart hammering in her chest. Alfred steps closer, his eyes finding the names on the record, and Aurora feels him tense.

“That bad?”

Kate’s voice seems distant. Aurora closes her eyes and has to shake her head slightly to pull herself from the memories. A club in France. Jazz music playing. Alfred’s blissful expression at the music. A trumpet playing painfully out of tune. Cold bars of a jail cell. Marcus pleading with the Gestapo officer.

“No,” she says and searches Alfred’s face. “No, it’s a very, thoughtful, gift,” she adds and touches his arm gently. They’ve never played any of Hallie’s records, since that night. As much as Alfred might have loved them, in the past, when they’d moved into a shared house, Aurora hadn’t seen the records anywhere. He must have gotten rid of them back then.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard that one,” he mutters, his knuckles turning white. Aurora shifts and bumps his shoulder, jostling him slightly in an attempt to keep him from slipping into a memory.

“Can we play it now?” their son asks. He looks at them with such big eyes that Aurora sighs and is already looking for a way to explain why it’s not a good idea.

“Later, okay?” Colette tells the boy, and Aurora wants to hug her. Her son frowns before letting out a sigh. “Let them listen to it by themselves first, Matti. It’s their gift, not yours,” she adds with a chuckle. Mathéo’s tongue darts out for a moment and Aurora sees Colette roll her eyes at him, but she returns the mocking gesture.

“What music do you like?” she decides to ask Kate, to divert the attention a little. The redhead opens her mouth but frowns, hesitating.

“I’m not picky,” she allows, casting a glance at Colette from the corner of her eye. “A fact that has been used against me a lot, recently,” she adds in a conspiring whisper.

“You said you didn’t mind me playing them!” Colette exclaims and Aurora watches as Kate winces.

“Yes, once or twice, occasionally. I don’t think I’ve listened to anything but The Beatles for the past few weeks!” she defends herself. Aurora’s son laughs and she can’t help but smile, as well, knowing about Colette’s adoration for the British band. It’s good, to see them like this. Relaxed and bantering, even when other people are around. Especially when Mathéo is in the same room. Months ago, Aurora had feared that it would never be possible, but now, she thinks they might be on the right track. And the more she sees of this American redhead, the more Aurora has to admit that she likes her. She’s smart, she’s witty and what is more, she cares about Colette deeply.

So really, what more could Aurora possibly wish for?

_fin._

**Author's Note:**

> 1) I'm not Jewish, all my information pertaining to Jewish faith and customs comes from jewfaq.org.  
> 2) The title is a (rough) translation of a line from a German song called "Kaputt" by Wir sind Helden. The German line is "Jede der Scherben spiegelt das Licht".  
> 3) I don't think I ever mention this in text, but in my head, Aurora, Alfred, Colette and Mathéo speak French at home.  
> 4) It felt good, writing this. I am deeply in love with Aurora Luft as a character, her complexity is utterly fascinating to me.  
> 5) I know that Aurora's relationship with Alfred and Mathéo falls very short here. It wasn't the focus of this piece.  
> 6) Thank you for reading.


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